


Inspire the way (aspire to be)

by i_am_my_opheliac



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Phandom Big Bang 2018, Smut, anxiety mentions, businessman phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_my_opheliac/pseuds/i_am_my_opheliac
Summary: Dan has been a Graphic Designer for years now, being quite successful as a freelancer, but he wants more. The apprenticeship at Accordion is the challenge that he didn't know he needed, or wanted. Everything seems to be perfect, until he's assigned to work on a project with Phil Lester, the Marketing Manager.It's in that moment that Dan realizes that this apprenticeship is going to teach him more than he ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have words to explain how much this story means to me. The vision came to me at the end of the year, and I knew instantly that I wanted to work on it for PBB. It gave me the push that I was waiting for to start writing again after almost two years. It reminded me just how much I love writing, how therapeutic it is to me. It allowed me to be brave and join a community that has been supportive and so welcoming. 
> 
> I had so many plans for this story, so many of them that didn't happen - and others that just wrote themselves and I couldn't take away. Despite having written my own master thesis at the beginning of the year, this is definitely the hardest thing I've worked on in 2018. 
> 
> Before starting, I need to thank a couple of people:
> 
> [Daria](https://odnakodaga.tumblr.com): Thank you so much for choosing my story. It's been such a pleasure to discuss small details of the story with you and read your enthusiasm at every milestone. I was so excited when I realized you chose my plot to do art for, I've told you countless of times how much I adore your style and I haven't stopped thinking so!! 
> 
> [Martha](http://headlesghost.tumblr.com): Your help has been indescribable. Thank you for going through this massive story and fix every small mistake I made, I know there were a lot! Thank you for replying to every single "is this okay??" and giving me your opinion and your advice whenever I asked for it. Without you this story wouldn't be half as good, I truly mean it. It isn't easy to find a beta to click with, and I'm so glad we did.
> 
> [Ablissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ablissa) and [AgingPhangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madophelia): My dears, thank you for countless hous of listening to my whines, for going through pieces of this story whenever I wasn't feeling confident in myself, for giving me plot advices and generally just for being wonderful.
> 
> And a huge thanks to everyone I've talked to during Word War chats for the encouragement and inspiration to just keep writing.
> 
> Here's my Phandom Big Bang contribution, hope you like it!

It’s a Wednesday when Dan receives the news - which is surprising, as Wednesdays tend to be pretty quiet days at the office. He’s only been working at Accordion for a couple of weeks, but it’s been enough time for him to recognize a pattern with the workday routines - and also learn to get his coffee breaks early on Tuesdays and Fridays, so that he doesn’t have to rush to get the last piece of Louise’s cakes.

He’s focused on the client informations on the monitor, writing down annotations in his notebook, next to the half doodled attempts and sketches, when he registers a presence next to him. He jumps - he always does, he jumps every single time someone comes close to his desk, cheeks flushed as the people surrounding him chuckle at how skittish he is. He can’t help it.

PJ has the decency to wear an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, sorry. I tried to knock and call you, but you had your headphones on.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” Dan mumbles, taking them off his head and rushing to pause the spotify playlist open in his web browser. It’s clear from the quirk of his brows that PJ heard what he was listening to, but he makes no mention of the obvious Welcome to the Black Parade drum rolls. Dan is grateful for that. “Did you need me?”

“Yeah, actually-” There’s a pause in PJ’s voice, his eyes drifting a bit to scan the room. Dan still isn’t used to sharing a space with other people, and it surprises him to realize how he has once again blocked out the mere idea of his co-workers existing in the same room as him. “Would you mind coming into my office?”

_ What would happen if I said no _ , Dan thinks as he stands up, almost tripping on the chair’s legs as he pushes it back. He ignores the curious looks from everyone else as he nods his head once and follows PJ outside, focusing on his shoes as he walks the short distance between the graphic design department and the Art Director’s office. 

Dan has been here before, more than once, so much so that the view outside the floor to ceiling windows behind PJ’s desk is now familiar, the lush trees in the small park a bright spot in the middle of the dull grey that is tall buildings and busy streets. He gets the same feeling of anxious energy as he did the first time he stepped inside the spacious room - his second interview for the apprenticeship, the first time he had felt like maybe, maybe he could actually work an office job and not just explore his creativity from the safe space of his room.

It had been exciting, to even be considered for a position like this. A full year in one of the most promising media agencies of London, one that worked with big companies to create astounding advertisements, the kind that would make someone pause and stare in wonder, marvelling at the pictures, the colors, the  _ creativity  _ behind it. 

He never stopped to think about how he would really feel once he got the job, never thought so far - mostly because he never really thought he would get the job. It had come as a complete surprise, the call from HR, the bright voice of Tara asking if he was available to drop by the office the next Monday, to fill in the paperwork. He had woken up in the middle of the night, checked his call history to see if the number was still there, if he hadn’t just imagined it. 

Now, a couple of weeks and a few minor tasks in ongoing projects under his belt, he knows that, despite still feeling a bit unsure about how much he fits in the company, he’s falling in love with the job. He likes the friendly atmosphere of an office where everyone is close in age and shares similar interests, where he doesn’t feel that weird talking about a viral meme he saw on twitter because at least two or three people will jump in the conversation to share their opinion on it, where he doesn’t get weird glances at the fact that he’s worked as a freelancer since before he even finished his studies. 

He likes the job, feels like he could grow into it and turn it into something really good for himself, and that’s why stepping into PJ’s office, today, scares him.  _ Does he want me to leave? Did I do something wrong? _

PJ clears his throat, interrupting his train of thoughts and bringing him back to reality. Dan blinks, surprised to find that he’s not only gotten inside the office, but actually sat down at the comfortable leather chair, whilst PJ - who’s technically his boss, who is the one in charge of deciding if he will get to stay once this year is over, who is young but still a professional, can get any client to agree with his abstract visuals and weird ideas - is bouncing on a big, grey ball, because Accordion is nothing but a pretentious millennials’ made company. He looks ridiculous yet still intimidating.

“Did I do something wrong?,” is what leaves Dan’s mouth without him agreeing to it, which - it happens way too much. Dan barely has time to realize what he’s said before he feels himself flush a little bit, especially when PJ - who looks like he was about to say something - closes his mouth and looks at him with the most perplexed face Dan has ever seen. 

“What, no,” is  the reply, voice slightly pitched, brows furrowed in a frown, almost like Dan is an abstract puzzle that PJ wants to solve. “The opposite, to be honest with you.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Really?”

That’s surprising, to say the least. It’s not like Dan has never done anything right in his life, it’s not that deep; he’s just not used to people saying he did something right, either. Which, PJ still hasn’t said  _ that _ . He might just mean that he hasn’t done anything blatantly wrong, but also anything obviously right. Dan knows, he knows it isn’t as black and white as people claim it to be. There’s a whole range of grey shades in the middle, he knows, his whole life is made of shades of colors combining to create a bigger picture. 

PJ looks at him, bemused, and a tiny bit worried, like he’s unsure if he should be laughing or not. “Do you always do that? Think of the worst before anything else?”

The only answer to that is a shrug; he aims for casual, like he’s not giving much thought to that question and not like it’s something he asks himself over and over, has been doing it for years now. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He says, changing the argument, hoping to bring PJ into his professional attitude and distract him from the tired looking new intern that wears too much black and apparently can’t hide his pessimistic ways from his manager for more than a couple of weeks. 

It seems to work, thankfully.

“I’ve been watching you closely since you started working here,” PJ says, hands skimming through the numerous pieces of paper on his desk, seemingly looking for something. His desk, for how much Dan has noticed, is always filled to the brim with paper and notes, so much so that every time he moves one at least ten more fall on the floor. Dan has no idea how he keeps things organized, but then again, Dan himself isn’t the poster boy for order, never has been. “You’re good, Dan. You’re focused, you’re talented, you haven’t complained about the simple tasks I’ve given and tried new ways to improve them and - where the hell did that draft go?”

Dan blinks, the change in tone - and in subject - too abrupt for him to ignore. “Uhm,” it’s his clever reply, “I, thanks, uh. What draft are you talking about?”

PJ doesn’t raise his eyes from the mess on his desk, keeps moving sheets of paper around. “The rough draft of Jonasson’s logo, I swear I had it here somewhere-”

“It’s in my, uh, our office. David has it.”

That seems to be enough to get the man’s attention, green eyes piercing behind his wide round glasses, looking at Dan like he’s looking for something, like he wants to dig deep inside of him to find a hidden meaning that, if he’s quite honest with himself, Dan isn’t even sure exists. PJ doesn’t seem to mind, though, seems satisfied with what he finds, the thin line of his lips morphing into a small smile. 

“Like I said, focused.” 

A few moments of silence pass as the art director starts typing on his keyboard, gaze jumping from the screen of his laptop to another piece of paper, seemingly having forgotten about Dan. The silence stretches so long that he wonders if he’s been dismissed without him noticing, if that was everything PJ needed. He wouldn’t put it past him, honestly, the man has the odd habit of going from one subject to the other, unable to put his undivided attention on just one task. It’s the reason why Dan has been working at Accordion for less than a month and has already received a number or projects to put the finishing touches on - all from PJ, every single one of them. Sometimes Dan wonders if he was hired to be a graphic designer or PJ’s assistant - he doesn’t see much difference, so far. 

By the time he’s started to ponder whether he should just make up an excuse to leave, the typing stops. 

“I mean it, Dan. You’re good. Definitely too good to get just the scraps of the stuff I don’t have time - or energy - to finish.”

_ Are you trying to fire me,  _ Dan thinks, and says exactly that, out loud, without really meaning to. He realizes only when he feels his mouth hanging open, the words already out, taking up the space of the otherwise silent room. He suddenly feels like he’s suffocating from them, his breath stolen.

His eyes must be as wide as saucers, he’s sure of it. PJ’s are probably just as wide, looking absolutely baffled by this lanky young man whose insecurities seem to be the most prominent feature of his otherwise boring personality. Well, PJ has never said so - Dan just has very poor self esteem. 

It takes a few seconds for PJ to recover, long enough that Dan is starting to think that’s actually what’s happening right now. But he does, an awkward chuckle escaping him. “What, no!” His green eyes sparkle with amusement as Dan’s shoulders sag with relief. “If anything, I want you to start working on projects on your own.”

“Oh."

“Yes, oh.” 

PJ is full on smirking now. It would infuriate Dan, if he wasn’t starting to grasp the concept that, only a few weeks into the apprenticeship, his work has being recognized enough that he is to be trusted with working on a project alone. His own projects. It’s not like it would be the first time either, he’s worked as a freelancer for quite some time, he’s had enough projects in his portfolio to prove to anyone that he’s an experienced designer. It’s what landed him this apprenticeship to begin with.

Still. Pride is a fucking amazing feeling, something he doesn’t feel particularly often. He’s gonna savour it.

“So,” PJ says, his voice interrupting the whirlwind of Dan’s mind. “Are you okay with that? I have no doubt that with your experience you’ll be good on your own, and of course I’ll still supervise, but I understand if you don’t feel quite ready.”

“No, no! It’s perfect.” Dan rushes to agree, he doesn’t want PJ to doubt his decision for even a second. “But, uhm, what does that  _ actually _ mean? How do I go about with it?” He hates that he has to ask, but he knows that it’s best to do so and have a clear picture on how to organise his work rather than pretending he understands everything and then rushing to ask for help when he’s messed up. He’s doing an apprenticeship because he needs the experience, needs to learn from other people. He has to let go of this irrational fear of not being good enough.

“Well,” PJ begins, moving forward so that his arms are resting on the mahogany table, eyes focused on Dan’s face, that same smirk still on his lips. “I actually already have a potential project for you. It’s not official yet, and Phil is still trying to close the deal without lowering the price too much but I’m sure with the right idea proposed to them he’ll be able to, so-”

“Phil?” Dan asks, trying to follow PJ’s words but getting caught up in the unfamiliar name. Accordion isn’t a small company by any means, and Dan hasn’t been around enough to memorize the name of every single person working in it, but there’s something about the way PJ says the name, an edge to the tone, like Dan  _ should  _ know who he’s talking about, should be aware of this person without even asking. It feels important.

“Lester, the Marketing manager. He's been on a couple of business trips this month, I don’t think you’ve seen him around?”

“Oh. No, yeah, I don’t think I have.” 

“Hm, thought so. Anyway, he'll be back on Friday and then we can have a briefing on it - granted, if Phil actually manages to close it, but he’s annoyingly good at his job.” 

PJ rolls his eyes as he says so, a smirk on his face like he’s lost in his thoughts. Dan wonders what he’s thinking, suddenly feels like he’s not needed in the room anymore. A feeling of awkwardness surges inside him, and he twists his hands in his lap as he tries to find the right words to escape the room without sounding rude. 

“That, uh, sounds good. So you’ll, uhm, come get me on Friday to give me all the details with -” Dan stops then, not sure if he’s supposed to say Phil’s name out loud. Granted, everyone he has met at Accordion has told him to stay on a first name basis, but the man sounds like he might be someone important, someone in charge, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. But the other way around sounds weird.

Honestly, the whole thing is kind of weird, if Dan thinks too much about it, so he tries not to. He’s not particularly good at it.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to add it to our calendars so we don’t forget about it, eh?” 

Dan smiles politely at PJ’s words as he stands up from the chair, taking the chance to leave the room. He has to actively make an effort to not say what’s on the tip of his tongue right now, which is something tremendously close to  _ you mean so  _ you  _ won’t forget about it _ , but for how much he likes PJ and for how friendly they’ve gotten in the couple of weeks Dan has been at Accordion, PJ is still his boss. He doesn’t think he’s quite yet earned the right to be snarky with his boss.

\--

Dan is still surprised by how much his concept of time has changed. Before, when he worked from home, days could pass without him noticing, swept away by endless hours of staring at his monitor, fingers flying between the drawing tablet and the mouse. Not having a fixed number of hours to work on projects had worked great for the first few months after graduation, the freedom of not being forced into time slots somewhat liberating. However, he had quickly come to realize just how much he craved some kind of structure, how little it takes for freedom to feel like groundless. 

It had been one of the main reasons why he’d started to look for office jobs - that, and financial stability. If there’s something Dan craves more than being in control of his own creativity, it’s the calm that settles in his mind when he’s secure that he can afford living by himself. Working at Accordion has given him that - and he’s come to love the way he can still have some freedom in the way he set his own schedule while also being able to recognize when a day starts and another ends. 

Friday arrives before Dan is ready for it. He wishes he could pretend like he isn’t nervous for the incoming meeting with the two higher ups, like he didn’t spend half the night tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if they changed their minds - surely they must have realized that he’s the new guy and he doesn’t deserve to have that much responsibility so soon. 

Except the meeting is still there on his schedule for 10am, both PJ and Phil’s name next to it, the assigned room being the Marketing Manager’s office. His hands sweat just thinking about it. There’s something about the title itself that makes this Phil Lester guy sound like someone important, someone that he has to look up to with respect. Dan is being ridiculous, he knows he is, recognizes that he’s self-projecting the old wishes of his parents that he would have a more stable career than a graphic designer - a lawyer, an accountant, a  _ normal office job _ . He can still remember how smug he felt when he called his mom to tell her that yes, he did find a job with his degree, in a real office, fuck her old prejudices. 

Dan wants to prove to his mom - and himself - that she was wrong. He chose the right career path, he’s good at what he does - for once in his life - and he won’t screw up the first big opportunity that’s come his way, no matter how soon he thinks it is. Which means, he needs to survive the morning without passing out from anxiety. Work is busy enough that he doesn’t have time to think, focusing only on the project on the screen - a simple enough brochure draft that PJ has been putting off for a couple of weeks now, more preoccupied with bigger clients. 

He lets out a choked  “Jesus fuck!” the moment he feels someone tapping on his shoulder, his body twisting away without his control. Unsurprisingly, he takes the headphones off his head to find his coworkers laughing and shaking their heads at him, more amused than annoyed at the yelp that is by now a daily occurrence.  

This time PJ is laughing along, looking completely unfazed by the profanity. Dan can feel his cheeks warm up, knows the rosy patch on his cheek is showing up - the one he’s always made fun of for, the one he’s tried to cover up for years with foundation, except he’s shit at shade matching.

“Oh god, sorry,” he scrambles to say, pulling the headphones from his head and sheepishly looking at PJ. He wonders briefly how many times he’s going to embarrass himself in front of his superior before he manages to stop. He’s not particularly hopeful. “I just, the music was - I didn’t hear you!”

“Oh just wait until I tell Phil, he’s gonna be really disappointed that he missed this.” If possible, PJ grins even wider. “He always complains that he’s the clumsiest at the office, he’s gonna be so happy about this.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say to that. His heart is still beating fast, too fast to be just the reaction to the accidental jumpscare, but he doesn't want to acknowledge that it's a weird mix of anxiety and embarrassment. He can feel his face burning, knows for sure that the rosy patch on his cheek is out in full display, and hopes that PJ won't comment on it. He already hates himself for being so skittish, for jumping every single time someone approaches his desk, he doesn't want to be known as the easily blushy new guy.

PJ is looking at him, he realizes, and he wonders how long he's been standing there, unmoving, feeling sorry for himself. He would apologize, but he doesn't want to make it a bigger issue than it is, not if he doesn't need to. 

“You ready?” Surprisingly, the question is asked in a quiet voice, tone soft and almost understanding. A quick glance confirms to Dan that PJ has stepped imperceptibly close, enough that the other people surrounding them can't pick up on what he asks. The tone matches PJ’s eyes, the bright green looking warmer and not as intimidating, and Dan feels a rush of appreciation for his weird boss.

He nods, strengthening up his shoulders just a tiny bit, just enough so he doesn't look as scared as he feels.  _ It's just a meeting,  _ he tells himself as he follows PJ outside the room, grimacing at the thumb up David sends his ways.  _ You just have to listen to the project, they probably want you to do something small. You've been here three weeks, you won't fuck it up. _

The Marketing and sales office is surprisingly colourful. Accordion isn't  big enough to guarantee a whole department to each position, instead having them grouped in big rooms, just so the creative energy is similar enough to be shared, or at least that's what Tara from HR said during his first interview. 

He hadn’t been in this side during that first visit when she showed him around, but he knows a couple of people - Evan and Sarah being two of them, always gulping down coffee like their lives depend on it, bright and cheerful and just a tad too loud during lunch break. He'd forgotten they work in the department, and now he feels like an idiot - he could've asked them what to expect.

They reach a large glass door connected to the room, and PJ only waits a couple of seconds after knocking before barging in, Dan following suit, trying to tell his heart to calm down.

The first impression Dan has upon looking at Phil Lester is how the man is nothing like he was expecting - not that he gave that much thought to the idea of him, but still, he was curious. He isn't that knowledgeable in company positions, but when PJ first mentioned him to be the Marketing manager, he thought he would be a salt and pepper old man with a dark navy suit and a big moustache, not a man that looks barely older than him, wearing a button up shirt with corgis all over it and an incredibly attractive face to pair it with. 

The man -  _ Phil,  _ Dan's brain helplessly supplies, the name flashing in his brain all of a sudden, as if he could have forgotten about it in the last couple of days - looks up from his monitor at the sound of them entering the room. He's seated facing the door, the wall behind him entirely covered with the same floor to ceiling windows in PJ’s office; the view is pretty similar, but the room is facing a different angle of the park, only few of the trees on display before the view makes room for the much busier road, with tall buildings on the side, colourful cars driving around and the sound of people so vivid it almost feels like they're inside the room.

The soft light coming from the window gives Phil an almost surreal vibe, making his skin even paler.  “PJ, finally, I haven't seen you in weeks! And -  _ oh.  _ This must be Daniel, I guess?” 

Phil's voice is deep, deeper than Dan was imagining for someone looking like that, yet it isn’t lost to him that there’s a little surprise in Phil’s tone when he moves his gaze to look at him. It didn't sound like the pleasant kind of surprise. Something in his stomach twists.

_ You're being dumb,  _ is what he chooses to tell himself as he takes a step forward, extending his hand for Phil to shake.“That's me. It's nice to meet you…” He falters just a tiny bit, not because he can't remember the name, but because he's suddenly worrying about whether he has to address him by his first or last name - or God help him, his title. There's an acute fear in his stomach that if he manages to fuck  _ that  _ up, then he can just leave.

Phil must have sensed his internal debate, because his face relaxes a little, a small smile gracing his lips as he stands up to shake his hand. “Phil is just fine. I'm late to the party but welcome to Accordion, PJ here has told me a lot about you.” 

Dan can feel a blush spread over his cheeks, and he knows that if he just turns around he’ll see PJ grinning from one ear to the other, undoubtedly pleased with himself for embarrassing Dan. “Oh God, I don’t even wanna know what he said.”

“All good things, I promise. Almost unbelievable, considering how briefly you’ve been here.” 

His tone is once again different, almost calculated. He sounds perfectly polite, but there seems to be a disapproval underneath that Dan can't help but notice. He also can't help but notice that, when he sits back down, it's on a bouncy ball similar to PJ’s, only bright blue. 

The visual is distracting enough that he forgets how he’s supposed to reply. “Oh, uhm -”

PJ thankfully seems to sense the awkward tension in the room. “Stop being grumpy! Dan is an experienced freelancer  _ and  _ is really talented, I think he’s exactly what you need to bring this project to life.”

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“Sure you aren’t.” 

The two men look at each other for a while, both their faces set in a somewhat stubborn expression. Dan has the distinct feeling that he’s being left out of a silent conversation that is mostly about him - although really, he always feels like that, not because he's egocentric, it’s just how his anxious brain works most of the time.

It probably only takes them a few seconds to settle whatever argument they're silently having, but to Dan it feels like hours of suffocating tension. 

It’s Phil that shifts his gaze first, an emotion on his face that can only be described as resignation. Dan feels a tug at his chest watching it happen - it makes no sense, he has no idea what’s happening, why the man would look like that when he seemed completely fine when they first got inside the room and, first and foremost, why  _ he _ would care in the first place.

The only coherent thought in Dan’s mind is that any adult man wearing a shirt with corgis on it should look nothing but content, always. 

“Well then,” Phil starts, his eyes widening comically as he leans back before seeming to remember how there’s nothing to lean into, wobbling precariously on the bouncy ball that everyone but Dan seems to deem appropriate to use as a chair. He sounds almost breathless as he says, “take a seat and let’s start.”

“Uh-”

Dan swallows the lump in his throat as he takes the first step forward. He’s never wished more that he was shorter and wore less black, that his body wasn’t lanky and awkward and his anxiety wasn’t written on his face at every waking moment. He feels two sets of eyes on him and it’s unnerving, the feeling of being judged for every movement. 

He sits down in a way that, he hopes, looks smooth and effortless and not like he can feel every single millimeter where his skin is touching the cool leather of the chair. He instinctively sinks down into it, letting the texture bring some comfort to his tense muscles. 

PJ, however, only walks the couple of steps that separate him from the desk, towering over them without sitting down. “I’ll let you get to it, then.” 

“You’re not even gonna participate?” Phil sounds angry now, his voice louder and laced with what seems to be disbelief. He’s looking up towards PJ with a look that Dan can only call betrayal. 

“I told you, I will supervise the design process, but I’m not getting involved. I trust Dan, and you can as well.”

The desk reverberates with the force of Phil’s fist hitting it. “This isn’t the kind of project that you can play teacher with! You are the Art Director, I need  _ you _ .”

“No, you don't!” Dan has heard PJ speak a lot in the weeks they've been working together - he's heard him argue with his colleagues and work himself out of phone calls with difficult clients - but he's never heard him sound like this, so final. “Explain the project to Dan, listen to his ideas, just trust that people can do their own job for once in your life.”

“PJ -”

“I have a Skype call with Jefferson in ten minutes, I have to go. Just - please, Phil, at least try.”

The only sound leaving Phil’s mouth is another resigned sigh as he lowers his head in his hands, shoulders slumped, looking defeated. 

To give him credit, PJ doesn't look particularly happy. “Thanks. Dan, I trust you'll be okay on your own, but do ask me anything if you need to. Oh, and sorry for - all of this.”

With that, he's gone, feet quickly hitting the wooden floor of the office before the glass door closes quietly behind him, leaving Dan alone in the marketing manager’s office, completely stunned.

\--

Phil, when he finally raises his face from his hands and looks back at him, stays silent for a long time

Dan wants to disappear. He wants to stand up and leave the room, excuse himself just so he can run to the bathroom, lock himself into a locker and  _ breathe _ . Why are they arguing in front of him,  _ because _ of him? Why did PJ think this would be a good idea? As if Dan wasn't already scared, as if his stomach wasn't filled with a churning feeling, telling him  _ this is a mistake _ .

Logically, deep down Dan knows it's nothing he's done. He's barely spoken during the five minutes they have been in Phil’s office, there's no way the man is actually angry  _ at _ him. But that doesn't matter, because his blue eyes have narrowed and his mouth is frowning and  _ everything  _ about his appearance screams just how frustrated he is.

_ Say something _ , his mind unhelpfully supplies, but he has no idea what he can say. He's not entirely sure what happened, if he has to be honest with himself. 

“I apologise for that.”

Dan barely stops himself from jumping at the sound of Phil’s voice - quieter and more collected than before, still laced with casual politeness. 

He clears  his throat before answering, “it's, uh, it's fine. I'm… Sorry as well?” He cringes as soon as the words are out -  _ you've done nothing,  _ his brain says,  _ stop apologising or he'll think you have a reason to. _

The man simply shakes his head, his black hair moving softly out of the not so perfect quiff that he's wearing. “You have nothing to apologise for. PJ and I - we have drastically different ways on approaching projects.”

Dan nods - he's been warned since day one that PJ has a quirky way of handling clients. The man is a creative genius and Dan admires his design work, but he's not sure PJ would be able to keep clients around without project managers and accountants doing all the dirty jobs.

“I'm assuming you know nothing about the client?”

Is there a right or wrong answer here? Dan isn't sure what to do, he feels like anything he'll say will be picked apart anyway. He shakes his head, then decides words are probably the best option at the moment. “No, PJ - uh, he said this is why we scheduled this meeting.” 

Phil rolls his eyes, there's no other way to describe it. Dan feels the beginnings of annoyance surge inside him, anxiety and irritation swirling inside his stomach in equal parts now. 

“Of course, as if he didn't know we're on a tight schedule to get them to sign on us!” It seems like Phil can't keep his hands still, his long fingers dragging through the silky black hair. “Now not only do I have to hope you're good enough to do the damn job, I also have to hope you're gonna memorize all the information in time. This is typical of PJ, I swear.”

The words are like a punch to Dan's stomach. Part of him wants to stand up for himself, wants to tell Phil how  _ unprofessional  _ he's acting, diminishing his work like this without even knowing him, making him feel like shit since he first stepped into the office - all of it because he and PJ are arguing like toddlers, apparently.

But there's doubt nagging at his mind, a whirlwind of  _ he's probably right _ . Why wouldn't he be? Phil seems young, probably not that older than Dan, and he's already manager of his department. He clearly knows how to do his job, and it's not surprising that he would prefer to work with PJ, someone with the same level of experience, rather than having Dan. Lanky, young, unprofessional Dan, with a portfolio filled with design that he's always been proud of but he's now wondering the quality of.

Dan can hear the voice of his parents, particular his father's, in his mind, telling him how naive he's been for believing he could do the job and be valued for it.

He doesn't want his dad to be right.

“I thought you already closed the deal?” Dan tries his best not to sound whiny or like he's questioning Phil's abilities, because he isn't, really - he knows absolutely nothing about his job. 

All he knows is that he doesn't want to stay here without asking questions and showing the man in front of him that, no matter how disappointed he seems to be with the idea of working with Dan, he doesn't have to worry. 

“Yeah, well, they don't feel comfortable enough to sign on a project this long without having a good idea of the designs we can provide.” Phil sighs at that, his scowl suddenly disappearing to leave space for what looks like resignation. “I wanted to show them some of PJ’s designs for similar projects, but then he decided  _ you  _ would be the one in charge and - here we are.”

Phil drops his hands on the desk, stopping the rubbing motion that he’s been performing for the past couple of minutes as he explains the project - and looks at Dan. Without the square glasses on, Dan can see how red his eyes look, how tired he must be given the depth of the dark bags beneath them. 

It makes him feel guilty, how  _ tired _ and deflated Phil looks, all the bold, frustrated energy gone from his body, leaving space for - what? Acceptance? Resignation? Dan hopes there's at least a tiny bit of trust mixed with it, even a sliver of it. If not for Dan, for the idea that PJ believed in his abilities.

And if there's no trust, Dan thinks, then he will have to create it. Build it up, no matter how hard it'll be. 

“Here we are,” he repeats, his voice carrying more confidence than what he actually feels. “PJ isn't working on this project, but I am. And I want to do a good job, good enough that they'll sign the contract without a single doubt.”

Phil looks at him, properly takes him in for what seems to be the first time. It's unnerving being scrutinized by the man, like he’s standing naked right in front of him, in the middle of the office. It would be better if he could stop himself from noticing just how beautiful Phil’s eyes are, an interesting swirl  of blue and green with a few surprising yellow spots thrown in the mix, so big and focused on Dan that he feels the need to hide. 

But he won't. He takes a deep breath when Phil doesn't say a word, and continues, “so, please, tell me about the client. Let me work on this project with you. I promise you won't regret it.”

A few seconds go by, then a minute. It feels like forever before Phil says anything at all, an endless wait that makes Dan wonder if he's gonna have to go back to PJ’s office and tell him that no, he can't do this, it's not happening, sorry. 

Except, Phil surprises him. His face relaxes, the deep frown set in between his brows disappearing as his mouth sets into a tiny smile.

“All right, Daniel,” he says, voice deep and not quite as coldly polite as before. “Let's get to work then.”

\--

The first thing Dan does as soon as lunch break on Friday rolls around is to walk to Louise’s office, mind full of frustrated questions. He supposes he could talk to her over lunch, but he had learned quite early into his apprenticeship that Louise has the wonderful ability of not being able to control the volume of her voice, making it almost impossible to have a somewhat subdued conversation about anything. He trusts Louise, they’ve built a surprisingly quick friendship in the time he’s worked here, but he isn’t that keen on letting other people listen to him rant about how much of a nightmare the meeting was.

He finds her still seated at her desk, head tilted down and eyes glued to what looks like a printed excel sheet, rows and rows of numbers and words that even though Dan has no idea what they mean, he’s sure Louise has full knowledge of. By now, he knows better than to interrupt her before she’s finished, having experienced her wrath the first - and only - time he went into her office without warning her first, to ask something about his contract. Dan never imagined that people working in HR were so easily angered. 

So he doesn’t speak, but still makes his presence known by fake coughing - quietly, in that way that you could miss if you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. Louise is listening though, Dan knows. It didn’t take him long to understand that, despite her sugary attitude and pink-and-white princess aesthetic, Louise is one of the most focused professionals he’s ever come across. 

He thinks back to PJ’s words - how he had called him focused, an adjective he would never use for himself - and how hard, it seems, it was for Phil to believe that he’s worthy of such a compliment. It makes Dan’s stomach twist with the anxiety that has been keeping him company since that morning, the constant doubt that hasn’t let him go since the meeting started a couple of hours back, since Phil’s eyes locked onto his for the first time, questioning his mere presence in the room.

His sad train of thoughts is thankfully interrupted by Louise herself. “Why are you standing there instead of eating your lunch, Daniel?”

The urge to roll his eyes is strong, but he resists. The very first conversation they had had - face to face, when he arrived at the Accordion offices for his first interview, not knowing much about the job besides the name of the company and the person he was going to speak to - Dan had told Louise that he doesn’t like to be called Daniel.  _ It makes me feel both old and young _ , he had said, the words sounding whiny even to his own ears,  _ like I should be getting ready to finish my homework and answering insurance questions all at the same time _ .

Thinking back to it, it was a weird conversation for a job interview, all things considered. He remembers thinking that Louise probably thought he was crazy, that she would never suggest his application to the Art Director for the apprenticeship that looked oh so interesting on the website. Except, she did. And now, here they are. 

“Just making sure that you’re gonna eat something today, and that you’re not forgetting to take a break like last week.” He keeps his gaze steady as she finally looks up from the sheet of paper, an unamused frown pulling her full lips downward. She seems to realize something is off in his behaviour but can’t figure it out. Dan doesn’t blame her.  

“It was one time, piss off.”

“Also,” he continues, ignoring her words to focus on the leading tone of her voice, wanting nothing more than to lean into them for comfort. “I wanted to ask you something?” He hates that he sounds unsure, never confident enough to express what he wants. 

She raises her head to look at him properly, eyebrows frowning in a silent  _ please, go on  _ gesture that Dan is way too familiar with, has seen it on his mom’s face one too many time, always pleading for him to  _ please, talk to me, why would you not trust me _ . He thought he had his reasons, back then; he hates how frustrating it is, to deal with him and his neverending insecurities.

“I mean, you can finish your stuff first, if you have to,” he rushes to add, the warmth of a blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Louise huffs, clearly exasperated. “Spit it out, Howell. If you’re here to ask me for Jason’s number, I told you already, he’s not gay.”

“Oh my god, no I don’t want his number!” Dan splutters, voice high pitched, his cheeks getting even more pink.  “I’m not interested!”   
  
“You sure were interested in his ass, the other day.”

  
“I was just.. appreciating the view, that’s it.” It’s his turn to huff in exasperation. “No, I wanted to ask you, about Phil Lester-”

“Oh, is  _ he  _ your new prey? Bit ambitious there, Howell.”

“Louise.”

She closes her mouth, amusement dancing in her eyes. Despite his sour mood, Dan can feel a smile threatening to show up on his face, but keeps his face stern. They stare at each other for what feels like minutes  - it’s probably not more than a couple of seconds, truth be told - before her lips start quivering and before they know it they’re laughing at each other, the sound too loud in the almost empty office. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she says as soon as they’re done, trying to catch the couple of tears escaping her eyes with one single finger. “Go on, what did you want to ask me? You and PJ had a meeting with him this morning, didn't you? How did that go?”

Dan shakes his head, a lingering smile still on his lips even when his mind is reeling back to the frustration of the meeting. He's thankful for Louise, for making him forget about it, even if just for a couple of minutes. 

“Right, well,” he says, then stops, not sure how to begin. “Uhm - well, to be honest with you PJ left after a couple of minutes, didn't even stay long enough to explain the project.”

Louise purses her lips at that, but doesn't interrupt him, the only sound coming from her mouth a small “hm" to show that she's listening. 

“And, well, I guess Phil wasn't, uh, particularly thrilled with me or - or something, I don't know, I guess I understand that he wanted to work with the Art director and not some random guy, but -”

“Wait, hold on,” Louise interjected, pale blonde brows furrowing in a confused expression, “what do you mean he wasn't thrilled? That is like, the opposite of Phil Lester. He's not a snobby asshole that only wants to work with the higher ups, he  _ loves _ to offer opportunities to the newly hired.”

Dan can feel himself deflate at that - because he had thought that, maybe, Phil was just a pretentious asshole that wore corgi button ups to entice the new guys into thinking he's innocent and trustworthy, only to then reveal his cruel side. A very beautiful cruel side, the kind that makes Dan’s heart skip a beat at the memory of blue eyes piercing his skull.

But no, apparently, Phil Lester isn't an asshole who just wants to get a rise out of up and coming people in the company. However, that doesn't explain why he was so displeased with the idea of working with Dan.

“Oh,” is the only thing he says when he realizes he hasn't replied to Louise - who is looking even more concerned, her work completely abandoned in favour of focussing all of her attention on him. It makes him want to crawl under a blanket and hide from her. “Well, he just - he basically  _ begged _ PJ to work with him on the project when he realized he would only be getting me. Which, I get it. Of course he wants to work with PJ. I'm only… me.”

Louise is shaking her head before he's even finished talking, a frown set on her face.

“No, no, that isn't Phil  _ at all _ . He would never make you feel unwelcome, he’s honestly a giant puppy.”

He simply shrugs, not wanting to continue an argument that he knows is impossible to win. She knows Phil best, of course she does, he’s only spent an hour with the man, so it’s pretty obvious that her opinion on him must be the correct one. Plus - and he finds himself extremely annoyed to even think about it - he has to admit that  _ giant puppy  _ might be the perfect description for Phil if he ever needed one: what with the corgi shirt, the big blue eyes and the youthful face, he can see how easy it would be for people to want to try hard just to ensure he’s smiling and happy. It doesn’t help that he is, for lack of other words, absolutely gorgeous.

He doesn’t want to think about  _ that  _ too much.  

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says, avoiding eye contact with her, knowing she’s probably taking pity on him. Not for the first time, he blames his voice for giving him away whenever he’s upset.

“Oh love, maybe he was just in a sour mood,” she says, voice sweet and understanding in a way that makes him feel like a sulking toddler. “I'm sure it's nothing against you, he was probably upset at PJ and took it out on you.”

“Hm."

“Trust me, come next week you'll meet the  _ real  _ Phil Lester.”

He can't help but give a tiny smile at the tone of her voice, firm enough that he doesn't have it in him to keep arguing with her. “Fine, fine! I believe you.” 

“Great.” Louise stands up then, her unfinished work completely abandoned in her effort to cheer him up. “Now, shall we finally go have lunch? I'm  _ starving _ .”

\--

Lunch isn't enough to completely dissipate the worry still nudging him in his stomach, but Louise’s chatter is enough distraction that he's able to tune it out for at least an hour. Dan can tell by the concern in her blue eyes that he doesn't have her fooled, but he refuses to feel guilty about it, knowing he would never hear the end of it if he tried to talk her down from it. 

Apparently, she's nothing but a concerned mother, even when it comes to grown ups. He can't pretend that he doesn't love it.

However, Dan’s newly improved mood doesn’t last long. Welcoming him back from his lunch break is a pile of papers with sketches and doodles all over them to accompany notes written with horrendous handwriting. The pile is thick enough that it stuns him for a few seconds, leaving him looking like an idiot, eyes wide and mouth open. Next to it Dan notices a white mug of steaming hot coffee, little cartoon cacti all over it.

There's a blue post-it stuck to the side of the mug, the same messy handwriting on it.  _ Time is running out, but coffee isn't! :3 Check your emails - P. _

His inbox, it turns out, is now filled with three different emails from Phil, who apparently either has no idea how to forward all the project details in one single message, or wants to overwhelm Dan enough that he’ll just give up.

Looking at the mess that is now his desk, the baffling combination of the frankly adorable note, the kind gesture of the coffee and the passive aggressive emails with no subject lines, Dan can admit that he is well and truly overwhelmed by Phil Lester after only knowing him for a couple of hours.

He isn't sure how he is going to feel by the time his apprenticeship is done.

\---

“You look awful,” is the first thing Mark says to him the next week, a frown on his face. 

Dan tries not to be self conscious about the comment, he knows that Mark is probably right - he isn't a morning person, not at all, especially not a Monday morning person, when he's had the whole weekend to vegetate without a single care in the world. He subtly tries to look at himself in the reflection of the monitor, patting his hair down. 

“Uh.” 

“Did you have a wild weekend?” 

He tries not to roll his eyes at the smirk on Mark’s face - he's a nice guy, everyone in the office is, and it's not his fault that Dan doesn't feel human yet. 

“Oh yeah,” he says, sarcasm obviously dripping out of each word, although Mark probably doesn't know him well enough to grasp that,  “the wildest.”

He ignores the  _ Nice!  _ that leaves his coworker’s mouth - far louder than he would like - and lets his feet carry him in search of coffee. The shared kitchenette is empty and perfectly immaculate, something that only happens on Mondays and Thursdays, Dan has learned, after the cleaning people have managed to clean up the mess of way too many young adults in such a small space. 

It helps him, going through the motions of making coffee in the silence of the room, the sounds of the people coming into the office muffled by the blurred glass door that divides the room from the rest of it. It allows him to gather his thoughts and think properly about the day ahead, the things that he has to accomplish. 

It's stressful, to work for other people. Part of it is still a challenge to Dan, something that he's forcing himself to do mostly to show himself that he can do it. That he can face his own insecurities - of disappointing someone, of stealing the position from someone more capable, more prepared. 

Part of him, though, is finding that he likes it - the chance to work on something bigger, something more structured and that has more impact than the small design projects he had managed to do in his years as a freelancer. Something like the project with Phil.

His thoughts are interrupted by the beeping of the coffee machine and the smell of fresh brew coming from it, spreading throughout the small room. It’s comforting, something that reminds him of working from home, standing in front of his own coffee machine only wearing loose pajamas and holding his Star Wars mug in between his hands.

Dan should’ve brought that mug with him, he realizes, looking down at the one he’s holding - the white one with little cacti that Phil left on his desk the previous week. The image of it is enough to make him frown. 

“Can I have some of that?”

“Fuck!” He jumps on the spot, the hold on the mug tightening as he tries not to smash it on the floor. His heart is positively beating outside of his chest as he turns around, eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief. 

It’s Phil, of course it’s him, standing in front of the door that Dan didn’t even hear open, holding a mug that looks just the same as his, except a bit more delicate in between his hands. Everything about Phil looks delicate, Dan supposes.

From the short strand of black hair escaping his styled quiff and the taupe button up fitting perfectly on shoulders that look broader than Dan remembered, to the almost invisible shadow of facial hair surrounding his mouth, contrasting with the pale white of his skin - the entire look of him is soft, softer than someone in his position should probably look like. His eyes are half closed in a sleepy expression that tugs somewhere in Dan’s chest.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t - ” Phil’s voice is low and calm, lacking the usual mocking tone people adopt when they manage to make Dan jump - which, truth be told, is not really that hard.  

“Uh-”

“Didn’t mean to make you jump,” is the end to the sentence, a grimace beginning to form on Phil’s face. “Uh, coffee? Please?”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Dan to realize what he means, feeling the warmth of his blushing cheeks when he finally does. “Oh -” he murmurs, internally beating himself up for giving Phil even more reasons to think he’s dumb. 

He pours coffee into the two identical mugs and tries to ignore the feeling of being looked at, willing his hands to stop shaking. The smell of coffee is enough to help him calm down, albeit a tiny bit.

“Sugar?”

A simple nod towards Phil, and then it’s Dan’s turns to look at him, observe the way his hands move around the kitchenette with a confidence that looks weirdly striking combined with his more subdued appearance. There’s something almost endearing about it, about witnessing Phil do something so mundane like spooning what looks like way too much sugar into both their cups of coffee. 

_ Maybe _ , Dan thinks,  _ maybe Louise was right. _ Maybe Phil was just having an off day on Friday, and he’s just as lovely as he looks. “Thanks,” he says, accepting the cup back into his hands and closing his eyes as he takes the first sip of coffee. It’s almost overwhelmingly sweet, just like the one on Friday, and if it was anyone else Dan would have spit it out immediately.

But Phil made it for him, and there’s something about it - about this man, looking like that, preparing a coffee just as sweet as himself - that has his stomach flutter. 

He can feel Phil’s gaze on him once again, can imagine those blue eyes observing him with an intensity that was oh so intimidating the previous week. He doesn’t want to see if he’s right. 

It feels like an hour before Phil speaks - but it’s only been a couple of minutes, Dan counting down each passing second, willing himself to focus only on the strong taste of coffee and not on the way his heart rate increases at the idea of being stared at by the one person that, from now on, he’s going to be working closely with; the one person that, most likely, will ultimately decide if he’s good enough to keep his job at the end of his apprenticeship.

Phil makes him nervous, has done since before Dan even met him - because of who he is and what he represents, because of how young and brilliant and intimidating he is. Because of how annoyingly gorgeous he is. 

“I’ve scheduled a check-in meeting with the client for Thursday,” Phil says, matter of factly, voice nothing more than a monotone track. It forces Dan to open his eyes and look at him, to see exactly what he looks like, how cold his eyes look now that he’s speaking to him. “Which means we need a design idea by then.”

The coffee tastes almost sour in Dan’s mouth. “Thursday,” he repeats, as if saying it again will somehow change the reality of it, will stop the sheer panic starting to build inside of him as he realizes just how little time that is.

There’s a smirk starting to show up on Phil’s lips, but there’s no warmth behind it. “Hope you were as diligent as you said and looked through all the material I sent you on Friday.”

Dan wonders how he ever doubted his own judgement, how he managed to ponder whether or not Phil really is an asshole. There’s no doubt left in his mind as he looks at Phil, the way he’s clearly hoping for a negative reply from him. 

Luckily for Dan, his own insecurities play a helpful role in making him extremely prepared, for anything. “I have.”

They’re both wearing matching frowns on their faces, he’s sure of it. 

“Good, I’m glad,” is what Phil says, the hard set line of his lips telling the exact opposite. “Guess you can prepare a proposal on it by Wednesday morning, so we can agree on a point of view before the meeting?”

It’s not enough time, Dan knows it, and he’s sure Phil does as well. It doesn’t matter how much of an asshole he’s trying to be, he’s not stupid at all, seems to comprehend how creative jobs work and must be aware that two days isn’t nearly enough time to even come up with an idea, let alone produce a mockup design of it, something worthy of presenting to a potential client. 

But there’s no way he can disagree, can he? “Sure.”

“Perfect, I’ll send you an invitation on your calendar.” The frown is replaced by a sudden smile, the lines on Phil’s forehead smoothing out to make him look even younger than before. “Thanks for the coffee, Daniel.”

He makes a cheers motion with his mug and then he’s leaving, the broad expanse of his back the one thing Dan is left staring at, unable to shift his gaze no matter how much he wants to.

It’s almost a relief that, for how attractive Phil is, he’s apparently decided that he absolutely, completely dislikes Dan. It sucks, and there’s a churning feeling of disappointment in his stomach, but at least it makes it a little easier to focus on the task at hand without being distracted by just how handsome his superior is, how much of his type he is. 

If Phil acted with him like he apparently does with everyone else, if he was kind and affectionate and as adorable as he was on Friday with the cup of coffee… well, he doesn’t know how he would manage to work closely with Phil without falling for him - not when he’ll have to stare at bright blue eyes and broad shoulders filling up crisp button downs in a such a delicious way, for days to come.

_ Really _ ,  _ I’m lucky, _ Dan tells himself as he pours the sickly sweet coffee down the drain, his desire for it completely gone.    
  



	2. Chapter 2

The thing is, for how insecure Dan is about himself and his abilities, he hates giving people any reason to think he is less than good. 

He knows that, if he asked PJ for some time off from his current assignments - most of them trivial and nowhere near as close in deadline as the approaching presentation is - he knows the man would agree. If anything, he would probably smile and thank him for realizing when he needs to  ask for help. Dan had a couple of professors in university that acted the same way, all kindness and willing to help out students as best as they could. PJ reminds him a lot of one of them, one of Dan’s favourites. 

So, really, he could ask for more time. But that would feel like admitting he isn’t able to juggle different responsibilities without someone else’s help, and he would feel like a failure. He would feel guilty about his co-workers, forced to work on different things, trying to fit new tasks into their already hectic schedules - what would they think, if the new employee was given not only an entire project, but even more time to work on it while neglecting everything else that was going on?

He can’t do it. 

Which is why he finds himself staying late at the office for the next couple of days, eyes burning from staring at his screen for too long, head aching from switching his focus from one project to another -  and when he’s forced to leave, when the last person besides him has to go and he can’t physically stand to sit in his chair any longer, he gathers his notes and his sketchbook and keeps working from home. 

It would be easier, maybe, if he had been involved since the beginning. He has to keep going over and over the files Phil sent him, a couple of briefings regarding the first meetings held with the client, along with the information about the company itself, the brand guidelines and past campaigns. 

The company, Mulién, isn’t unknown to Dan. Having been in the apparel industry only a few years, they were now inching towards the front line of avant-garde fashion, trying to push the boundaries of the market. Dan has heard about them here and there, has seen their adverts a few times during fashion weeks, and he isn’t sure what to think about them. 

On the one hand, he appreciates fashion, and he particularly appreciates the less structured concepts that companies like Mulién have been trying to deliver; on the other hand, he can’t help but grimace at working on a project that is profiting off of the idea of genderless clothes. It feels like selling out. 

The more he looks at Phil’s notes on it, the more he studies the goal they want to meet with this project, the more daunting of a task it seems. An entire advertisement campaign, both digital and traditional, to be launched at the end of June -  _ Pride Month _ , Phil’s note says, highlighted in bright blue along with a brief comment on tying the underlying spirit of the campaign with the biggest celebration of the LGBTQ+ community and the likely spike in attention that that will generate.

Strictly speaking of strategy, it's not a bad plan, and having the campaign launch in the second half of June gives them just enough time to prepare and deliver everything they need - from advert designs to new versions of the logo that will be used for this apparently permanent line, from website redesign to helping with the creation of the packaging. Every aspect of the campaign’s communication, said Phil during their first conversation and then again in his emails, as if Dan could forget just how much work there is to do in barely 9 months, as if he isn't already panicking about just that before the client has even signed the deal.

For the first time since the project was dropped in his hands, he realizes that the wrapping up of it - save for any delays that Dan really hopes are not going to happen - will pretty much coincide with the end of his apprenticeship, which only means one thing: the fate of his job at Accordion is tied to the result of this project. 

So there's nothing else he can do but swallow the doubts he has on the ethics of the project - or Phil - and start his laptop, trying to come up with something good enough to impress Phil, the client and, most of all, himself.

And then it hits him, the perfect idea. It flashes in his mind as sudden sparkles of colours and shapes and a story unfolds right in front of him, so overwhelming that he scrambles to the nearest notebook to start sketching. It’s a lot, way too much for the little time that he has, but he pours his all into it, trying to perfect it before he can present it. He has a good feeling about it.

\--

“What's  _ that  _ supposed to be?”

Dan recoils at Phil’s tone, the edge to it sharp as a knife, twisting in his stomach in the most unpleasant way. He feels like a child scolded for not putting his toys away, stood in front of Phil’s desk with his hands clasped behind his back.

“The, uh, design idea for Mulién.” 

Phil keeps his head straight to focus on him, eyes hard and unamused. “Yes, I got that, thank you. What I’m asking is for you to please explain what this is supposed to  _ mean _ , because I’m mostly seeing strokes of colours.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s what they technically are, but -” Dan stops, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth before going on. “But if you look at the notes I wrote -”

“Stop talking.”

Dan closes his mouth at that, even though everything in him is screaming to keep his head high, to finish his explanation, to not back down from his idea. But Phil is lowering his head and bringing his fingers to his temple in a slow massage, eyes closed as if he has a headache. He’s not wearing glasses today, Dan notices in passing.

A few seconds go by, then a minute, and Dan is starting to wonder how long he’s going to have to stay there, feeling awkward and sorry for himself, before Phil sighs loudly.

“Right. Give me one, just  _ one  _ good explanation as to why you think this is the right idea. Because I’m going to be honest here, this looks like nothing to me.”

“My notes -”

“No, no, forget your notes,” Phil says, voice raising slightly. “Those notes make no sense! If you didn’t have enough time to do a proper job, you should’ve told me.”

Something is stuck in Dan’s throat, something ugly that is threatening to spill out. “You gave me less than two days. I - I did what I could.”

“You didn’t follow any of  _ my  _ notes, and I can’t even tell if you  _ did  _ follow the client’s guidelines. Honestly, I was a bit sceptical even with your experience as a freelancer and PJ’s good words -

“I -”

“Do you have  _ any idea _ how hard I had to push for this project to be accepted, how many people I had to convince? I’m risking my seat on the board for this and I get it, you don’t care -”

“I do.”

“- but you could at least  _ try! _ ”

If there’s something Dan hates, something he really cannot stand, it’s people dismissing his hard work, not taking him seriously when he’s done everything he could to succeed in something. It makes the blood in his veins boil and the ugly feeling stuck in his throat is finally released. His voice, which up until that point had been weak and lacking any kind of conviction, gains strength as he opens his mouth to defend himself.

“Would you shut up for just one second and listen to me?!”

Silence falls on them following Dan’s outburst, His hands are closed into fists and glued to the side of his body, his eyes filled with unshed tears of frustration. He can feel his heart beating quickly, the thumping of it resonating in his chest in a uncoordinated rhythm. 

Phil seems just as surprised by the outburst as Dan is, blue eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Weirdly enough, he seems to be blushing slightly, the otherwise pale cheeks going rosy under Dan’s stare. He blinks a couple of times, clearing his throat before asking, “you - what - e-excuse me?”

Dan’s heart is still beating wildly and his breath is caught in his chest as he realizes the gravity of the situation. He just shouted at Phil - shouted at the one person that is managing the project that is probably going to decide whether he gets to keep this job or not, shouted at one of the senior members of the entire company. He might as well walk back to his office, pack up his stuff and leave today. 

The worst is done now, though, and if he has to walk away, if he has to leave the room with any kind of dignity left, he might as well at least make it count, straighten his back and keep his head high, pretend like he’s braver than he actually is. 

“I - you - you’re not listening. I tried, I tried  _ so hard  _ on this, I barely slept these past two days so you don’t get to fucking tell me that I didn’t.” Dan can feel his pulse quicken even more, his breath laboured. “I get it,  you don’t want to work with me, you’d rather work with PJ, but you’re stuck with me for now. And maybe I’m not the best out there, and maybe you won’t like my idea in the end but you should at least let me  _ explain it. _ ”

A frown starts to appear on Phil’s forehead, small lines wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows. “Daniel -”

“And you know what, you’ve been an asshole to me this week, barely giving me a chance. Everyone I’ve spoken to said you’re a sweetheart and nice to interns, so tell me, was that all bullshit or is it specifically me that you cannot stand? Because if I’m the problem, just say it and I’ll be out the door, but I  _ care _ about my designs, I work hard on them and I think you should at least respect that if not me.” __

As soon as he’s done speaking, as soon as the rush of adrenaline seemingly leaves his body, Dan feels like he can’t breathe. It’s like something is weighing his chest down, making him fight for each breath. His eyes are wide and staring straight at Phil, who is looking back at him with a dumbfounded expression.

“Wow. Okay.”

What had Dan done? He just called his superior an asshole.  _ What have I done? _

“I - I’m sorry, I - oh God, I -” he starts rambling, voice breaking so much that he’s not able to string an entire sentence together. “I just - I didn’t mean -” 

There’s a broken gasp coming out from his mouth that Dan isn’t able to stop, just like he isn’t able to stop the way his brain keeps telling him how  _ stupid _ he was just then, how Phil is gonna fire him on the spot - and he would be right to.

Dan hates himself for flinching back when Phil takes a step forward, the gesture more intimidating to him than it actually is. It’s clear that Phil isn’t sure what to do, watching him with eyes wide and what looks like concern written all over his face. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine,” Phil says, his voice calm and soothing, so different from the tone he has used up to that moment. He has one hand up in the air, outstretched towards him, but he keeps it still, as if he’s scared that Dan will run the moment he moves. Dan can’t blame him. “It’s fine, I’m not upset, okay? Just breathe for me, please.”

It takes a moment for Dan’s panicked brain to slow down, to escape the vortex of fear he's fallen into and realize exactly what Phil is telling him. A searching look into his eyes and Dan takes a deep breath, then another. 

Phil watches him carefully for a bit, still looking like he wants to reach out, but not like he’s upset. He's slightly hunched over, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth. Without the harsh look on his face, he seems almost  _ caring _ .

It takes another few seconds before he speaks again, voice still soothing, as if he’s afraid Dan will crumble into pieces if he shows anything but serenity. “Are you feeling better?” Phil's tone doesn't sound impatient or upset, doesn't sound like he's mocking Dan. He sounds genuinely concerned, like his main focus right now is to make sure Dan is okay.

And that does indeed make Dan feel better. His heart is still beating fast, his whole face warm from embarrassment, but he doesn't feel like he's about to die anymore. 

“Yes, thank you,” he says quietly, twisting his hands in front of himself. “Phil - Mr Lester, I - I'm so sorry, that was so -”

“Please, sit down, breathe. I told you, I'm not upset.”

_ Why aren't you,  _ Dan wants to ask, the question loud in his mind as he watches Phil lean against the edge of the desk once again, as if nothing has happened. It makes no sense, and Dan isn't sure why Phil isn't yelling at him, why he’s not calling HR to have him fired on the spot. 

It could still happen, sure, but the man in front of him, motioning him over to the comfortable leather chair in front of the desk, looks perfectly calm and collected, not at all like he's about to fire someone. 

Phil Lester might just be one of the most confusing people Dan has ever met.

Once Dan has taken a seat, the two study each other for what seems like forever. Seconds tick by without either of them saying a word, and Dan isn't sure if he's supposed to talk or not, isn't sure what he should say besides apologizing over and over, but Phil seems lost in thoughts, his eyes on Dan but lightly glazed over, almost like he's not seeing him, not really.

Dan should feel intimidated, having to raise his head just to look up at Phil, just to make sure of what he’s doing, of what he’s thinking - but he isn’t. All he feels is restless; he can still feel the cold sweat on the palms of his hands, his mind racing, wondering why Phil isn’t yelling at him and why he’s looking so calm and collected.    

He's starting to ponder the best way to break the silence when Phil finally speaks, setting his hands back on the desk for leverage, his eyes firmly on Dan.

“I don't appreciate being called an asshole -” 

“I'm really sorry!” Dan rushes to exclaim, his entire body screaming at him to fix the situation.

But Phil shakes his head, a small grin starting to appear on his lips. “I don't appreciate it, but you weren't wrong.” A small pause, in which Dan is sure his eyes are wide and filled with disbelief. “I've been a bit harsh on you and I'm sorry for that.”

“You-”

“The board isn't overly happy with how long it's taking to get Mulién to sign, it's been weeks and I had to convince them it was going to be fine if we sped up the delivery to June - you know, I thought that would be the key to get them to sign.”

Dan can see where this is going. “But they still didn't?” He guesses, eyes moving around to capture every single detail of Phil's frustrated face.

Phil nods. “They didn't, because it's a long project and a lot of money, and they wanted some design samples - which they didn't want to pay for, typical.” A roll of his eyes, as if he’s used to that kind of behaviour. “So the best I could do was show some examples of what our Art Director has done in the past.”

And there’s the kicker, isn't it? Because Dan isn't the Art Director, and he doesn't have anything in his portfolio that is quite similar. “Except, you got me.”

Another nod from Phil, a sigh escaping from his mouth. “If they don't sign, we've lost a lot of time and energy, quite a bit of money for the company  _ and _ I can forget my seat on the board.”

Dan has no idea what that means, no idea why that is such a big deal to Phil - but there's something about it, about seeing him close his eyes in defeat, that tugs somewhere in his heart. Maybe it’s his overbearing need to make the people around him comfortable, to make sure he isn’t the source of any more stress to others, but all he wants is to reassure Phil that it’s going to be fine.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know if it will be. He’s never worked on such a complex project before, he’s never had to juggle so many different people’ interests and align all of them to come up with a best case scenario. Dan has worked on projects he’s proud of, projects that required lots of energy and time out of him, but never quite this much. 

What he’s sure of though, what he can say with certainty, is that he’s gonna do his best to make it work.

He takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts before he says, “look, I can’t say they will absolutely fall in love with my idea, but i think it has the potential to be good. By all means send me away for calling you an asshole, but - I mean, if you just gave it a chance -” 

Phil looks at him as he talks, head tilted slightly to  the right, causing a few pieces of hair to escape the styled quiff and fall on his face, softening the way he looks. He seems to be thinking, probably pondering the next step. It’s in his hands now, Dan knows it. If he decides he’s had enough, of Dan and his weird ideas, of his inexperience and his loud mouth - well, he can’t blame him, can he? 

It didn’t seem like Phil had liked him all that much to begin with - and now what better chance to get PJ on board and solve all of his problems than report Dan’s misconduct?

When Phil begins to talk, Dan is fully prepared to gather his notes and sketches and leave the office, the muscles of his legs already contracting to run as soon as he stands up. Except Phil surprises him, once again.

“Fine then,” he says, twisting back so that his long fingers can grab at one of the papers with the colourful lines and shapes that Dan has spent hours upon hours working on over the past two days. “I’m listening.”

Dan is taken by surprise at that, blinking furiously as if trying to make sense of Phil’s words. It’s only when the man in front of him makes another  _ go on _ gesture, that he realizes what Phil is implying. He wants Dan to talk about his idea, to explain it to him. He’s giving him another chance.

_ Well then _ , Dan thinks, swallowing down the panic that is still building inside of him and taking another calming breath. “Okay, right, just follow me.” He moves forwards, grabbing at one of the papers strewn on Phil’s desk, the description of Mulién’s request with highlighted comments from both Dan and Phil. “The entire concept for this new collection that they're putting out is that it's supposed to not be gendered, right? Unisex.”

Phil nods, his eyes lowering down to follow Dan’s finger. “Yeah.”

“And they don't want the customers to look at the clothes and only see the people wearing them,either, right?” Dan asks, more to keep Phil involved rather than seeking a confirmation that he already knows.  “They don't want to pull the focus away from the actual clothes and what they stand for.”

Another nod, another simple  _ go on  _ gesture with the hand that Dan is more grateful for than he should be.

“So that got me thinking, the entire baseline of the design should be abstract, a mixture of shapes, textures and colours that only  _ hint  _ at the idea behind the clothes.” And here Dan stops, his hands moving to grab at two other pieces of paper, the ones filled with formless drafts that intertwine on paper, looping around and even reaching the end of the surface. “We want the customers to see the clothes without the preconception of what a line like this should look like or who should be able to wear it.”

Phil shifts his eyes from the papers in his hands to Dan’s face, arms crossed, focus completely on him. It's unnerving, and he can't stand the gaze for long. 

He tries to stop himself, he really does, but in the end he can’t help himself from asking, “w- what do you think?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Oh - oh. Okay,” Dan says, except it's not, and he knows it, because he keeps rambling on, almost like he wants to make sure that he gets his point across. “Because, like, think about it, the whole abstract and shapeless direction plays really well into the ideas of not conforming to a societal standard, and really gender is more of a social construct that -”

“Daniel, let me  _ think _ .”

Dan shuts up at that, if only because Phil’s tone is so firm, so definite, and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he tries to go against Phil’s wish. His throat feels dry as he waits, feeling vulnerable and exposed as the two men watch each other. Dan wants to shift his gaze, wants to stop trying to read what’s going on inside Phil’s mind, the endless fascination with how quickly he seems to change ideas. It makes Dan dizzy. 

Helplessly, he watches as Phil lowers his gaze back onto the papers, his fingers grazing Dan’s as he reaches for them, turning them slightly this way and that, as if to look for the hidden meaning behind them. Dan has the sudden urge to reach back, to pull them from Phil’s delicate fingers and clutch them to his chest, protect them from those inquisitive blue eyes. He’s suddenly self conscious about them, about what he sketched and the little notes he wrote to accompany them. He doesn’t know if he wants to protect his creativity from Phil’s questioning gaze, or vice versa. 

“This could actually work.”

Time seems to stop. 

“Wait, really?” Dan asks, before he’s able to stop himself. He’s sure that, in a few hours, once he’s at home and alone with his feelings, he’s going to rethink the whole day and chide himself for showing such a vulnerable side of himself to Phil, for being so open about his insecurities and his flaws.

Phil, though, doesn’t seem to think any of this, a slow grin starting to form on his face as he places the design back on the desk. “Yes, really. I mean, there are a few things that might need to be tweaked, and in the end the client has the last word on anything they sign on, but it's well thought out.” He nods as he speaks, as if convincing himself, and Dan, of what he’s talking about, as if he needs to sell this idea to the two of them rather than the Mulién representatives.  “And I like the idea of playing with shapes and colours, we could take advantage of all the Pride stuff that will be around to, you know, kind of coordinate our palette?”

And there it is, the one thing Dan really isn’t that sold on. “Yeah, about that,” he starts, inwardly preparing himself. “I've read the project proposal over and over, and they never asked for the campaign to be during Pride?”

Dan grimaces a little at the way Phil’s grin slowly morphs into a tight line. “What are you asking?”

A deep breath, enough to let out the words - almost regretting it as he does so. “I, uhm. I'm... asking whose idea that was?”

“It was mostly theirs, but I did help with trying to settle down the schedule with a potential launch date.”

“Hm.”

So it  _ was  _ Phil’s idea. Dan doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, or why it’s suddenly different that it was indeed Phil thinking about it - why it makes it even harder to swallow.

He thinks he’s trying hard enough not to let it show how much that upsets him, how much he  _ cares _ , but it’s obvious from Phil’s furrowing brows that he is much more transparent than he thought. “Is that a problem for you?”

Dan wants to say no, wants to pretend that everything is fine and great and to go back to discussing all the wonderful, amazing things about this project, all the reasons why he’s excited to work on it, with Phil.

But he can’t. “Would it matter to you?” 

He says it quietly, not challenging in any way, a genuine question in his voice - because he wants to know. Does Phil mind? Does knowing that Dan isn’t okay with it, that Dan has  _ thoughts  _ about it, change the whole thing? Dan doesn’t think so. 

Phil doesn’t seem to like that. “It might surprise you, but it does.” A small pause, before he continues. “I care about the good result of this project, and I want us to work together the best way we can, so if there's something you don't like about it,  _ anything at all _ , I'd rather know now than later.”

The thing is, Dan doesn’t doubt for a second that Phil cares. Whether or not he cares for the right reasons, for the reasons  _ Dan  _ feels are right, that’s another story. Is it worth it, risking destroying  the peaceful balance they’ve found over the past ten minutes, just to say what’s on his mind? Maybe not.

But on the other hand, Dan didn’t get to where he is now because he avoided conflict, or because he avoided taking risky decisions. He might overthink everything he ever does, he might lie awake at night pondering his choice of words over and over, but in the end, he knows himself - he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try. 

“I just don't feel comfortable with profiting off the LGBTQ community, especially during Pride month. I don't like it when my sexuality is used to make me buy something,” he takes another deep breath at that, swallowing down the slight uncomfortable feeling that comes with each coming out. He doesn’t think Phil will be an asshole about it - hell, it would be really fucking awful if he was while also trying to bring home a project like this. 

However, it does seem like Phil understands what he’s saying between the lines. He purses his lips slightly, studying Dan with interest before he looks to the side. 

“Look, I get it, don't think for one second that I don't. However, this is how the market works.” He only pauses for a couple of seconds before continuing, not leaving Dan any time to come up with a reply. “If not with us, they'll end up doing this campaign with another agency, someone that  _ won't  _ care whether or not they proofread their copywriting to check that they don't use offensive language, or hire a photographer that is not only comfortable but also capable of working with queer and trans models - which, by the way, is the only type of people I am going to hire to shoot the adverts.”

Dan can feel his cheeks burn, an overwhelming sensation of being lectured on something bigger than he ever thought. If at the beginning of this meeting he felt like he was the mature one, the one that needed to scold Phil on his lack of thought on matters as important as LGBTQ rights, he now feels like he should be ashamed for assuming Phil not only wouldn’t care, but wouldn’t even  _ know _ .

“I - I didn't think -”

There’s a small smile on Phil’s face, a sad one at that, one that tells Dan that he’s had this argument before and he’s ready to have it once more if needed. “Please, don't think I don’t care about the ethics behind this campaign, but if I have to choose to do business with someone that will inevitably try to profit off the community, I'd rather choose the opportunity that will make us give back to them with, you know, donations to charity, representation and products specifically targeted towards them.”

By the end of Phil’s speech, Dan is aware that he can’t complain. He can tell just by looking at him, at the way his eyes sparkle and the colour showing up on his otherwise pale face, that Phil does care more than Dan would’ve ever thought. And no matter how hard it is for him to accept a truth like that, he knows that, in the end, Phil is right. 

He still has his hesitations over the project, but he can also recognize the good that will come out of it, if they do their job right. And there’s no more doubt in Dan’s mind that he wants to be part of something like this.

“Okay. Okay,” he says, smiling for the first time since he set foot into the office, “we're doing it then.”

“We are.” A matching smile shows up on Phil’s face. so wide and kind that Dan almost basks in the warmth of it . “Thank you Daniel. I was upset when PJ first dropped this project and gave it to you, without even telling me. But, you know, I think in the end it might have been the best possible result.”

There’s a warm glow building up in his chest, so different from the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that has been part of every encounter with Phil since he first knew him. It makes him hopeful for what’s to come, for everything they’re going to be able to do, together. 

Except for one issue.

“Dan.”

Phil blinks, not expecting that reply to his praise. “What?”

Dan chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Please, if this is going to work you have to stop calling me Daniel. Dan is fine.  _ Please _ .” 

“Fine,  _ Dan. _ ” Phil huffs, clearly amused. _ “ _ Now, if we want to have this presentation ready by tomorrow, we need to fix some things. You start sketching and I’ll start writing. Honestly, do you even _ know  _ how to write?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Don't ever say that again.”

\--

The next day the air is tense in Phil’s office.   

Dan can feel his stomach twisting anxiously as he fixes his hair in front of the still dark monitor, willing his curls to fall into what he hopes looks like a professional way and not like he just rolled out of bed a few minutes before. He tries not to focus on the way he looks in his white shirt - one of the few he has, bought a few days before starting work at Accordion because his mum had scolded him for never looking professional enough. 

_ Skinny jeans and a black t-shirt isn’t office clothing, Daniel _ , she had said with that tone that he knows oh so well, that masked disappointment that he used to hear all the time when he was still a teenager and that even now, well into his twenties, he’s not able to ignore. 

He isn’t sure that what he’s wearing right now would be deemed professional by his mum. Not with the slight sheerness of it and the tiny black moths dotted around the shirt, and he’s still wearing his black skinny jeans underneath, but it’s a button down at least, and that should count for something. It’s not like he was expecting to be present during this call - his coworkers had been quite surprised by that, especially Kevin, since it was usually the project manager that dealt with the client. Dan had simply shrugged it off. 

Now, though, now he’s overthinking it. 

At the side of the room, Phil and PJ are deep in conversation, the occasional laugh reaching Dan’s ears. Despite the awkward argument of the previous week, it seems like the two of them are friendly and quite comfortable around each other, so Dan assumes their disagreement must have been related to work only. 

He watches them for a bit, trying to be subtle about it. PJ is not going to join them, he’s only here to intervene in that case that the Mulién spokesperson has any doubt concerning the design process -  _ to be our warrantor,  _ Phil had joked, earning himself an eye roll from PJ. 

As soon as 10am rolls around, Phil takes his seat on the bouncy ball next to Dan - sitting in one of the respectful leather chairs that Phil keeps in front of his desk, thank you very much. PJ is sat in a corner, outside of the webcam’s angle, but close enough that he can listen in on everything they say and come into view if needed.

Dan checks his hair one more time in the screen, before a hand is placed on his arm, pulling it away from his head. 

“Stop touching your hair, you look fine,” Phil scolds him, sitting back down, wobbling so much that Dan is quite concerned he’s going to fall on his ass.

“Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t want to use one of the other chairs? You know, the ones with a back on them?”

Phil huffs at that, fixing his shirt with one hand while also keeping the other one firm on the desk - for balance, Dan is sure. He’s wearing a navy shirt today, and for the first time Dan is close enough to him - so close that their shoulders are touching - that he can smell his cologne, the sweet, woodsy tone of it, hearty and distinctly  _ man _ . He hates himself for leaning into him ever so slightly, trying to subtly inhale more of it. 

Thankfully, Phil doesn’t seem to notice, mostly because he’s still trying to defend his choice of seating. “Look, these are  _ good  _ for your posture!”

PJ is laughing at that, the sound of it helping Dan clear his mind a little bit. “He’s saying that but he almost falls off once a week!”

“Shut up! They were  _ expensive _ and totally worth it.”

“You just don’t want to admit they were a bad budgeting choice.”

“Never!”

“I hate to break it to you, mate,” Dan says, a grin on his face, joining in the jovial tone of PJ’s teasing, “but it might be time to admit defeat.”

Phil pouts at them, bottom lip pushing down in an exaggerated way. “You’re both mean to me, I don’t deserve this.”

Their laughter is interrupted by the Skype ringtone, loud and echoing in the room. Phil gives them a moment to calm down, a sparkle still in his eyes as he turns to look at Dan. “Ready?”

Dan can still feel the lingering pull of his smile as he nods, preparing himself to sell his - and Phil’s - idea.

\--

It turns out that starting a project where multiple people are involved is an even slower process than Dan had ever imagined. So used to handling everything on his own, he’s almost baffled when days pass and nothing seems to happen. It makes him nervous, the seemingly never ending game of waiting on one of the two parties to take a step forward. 

A week after Mulién’s marketing manager sends a confirmation email to Phil, requesting yet another small change on the terms and conditions of the contract, Dan is ready to pull his hair out in frustration. Both Phil and PJ laugh at him whenever he complains about it, shaking their heads like Dan is the one being ridiculous.  

“You have to be patient,” PJ tells him during one of their check ins, eyes twinkling with amusement. Obviously, Dan is still working on other stuff, at least until Mulién’s yet unnamed project properly starts - which could take several more weeks, according to what Phil told him the last time he’d asked, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he revisited the contract once again. It’s a bit stressful, trying to mentally juggle several tasks all together when Dan was so used to working on one major thing at a time, but he can’t deny he finds himself enjoying it the more time passes. 

It also gives him an opportunity to feel like less of an outcast compared to his co-workers, allowing him to have topics in common to talk, and complain, about. Despite his introverted nature, and the way he naturally finds himself putting big headphones on his head to shut the outside world out, he finds himself joining in on the conversations happening at the desks around him, breathing in the inspiring atmosphere of people sharing similar branches of creativity without feeling the need to compete with it. 

It’s new, and scary and sometimes exhausting, the amount of social interaction that he keeps being involved in, but as days go on, it feels less like an obligation and more like a natural part of his daily routine. 

Louise comments on it one day over lunch, almost two months into his apprenticeship. 

It’s so sudden, the quiet tone of her sweet voice in the midst of the loud people surrounding them, arguing about a topic that, for some reason unknown to Dan involves the idea of creating children rental shops. Dan is in the middle of a shocked laugh that he tries to hide in his plate of chicken, ignoring the outraged sputtering of Kevin on his side, when she speaks out of nowhere.

“You know, I haven’t heard you come up with a weird excuse to skip coffee break in a while.”

He has to swallow the bite he’s just taken before he can say anything, the only thing coming out of his mouth a confused, “huh?”

The argument around them is still ongoing, but Louise seems to completely ignore it - as she often does, eyes usually focused on her smartphone, reading the news or mindlessly scrolling through social media, showing Dan the casual gossip on Twitter.

“I just mean, you seem more at ease around people,” she continues, a pensive look on her face. She’s wearing a slate coloured sweater today, the darker shade appropriate for the miserable weather outside but contrasting with her usual brighter choice of clothing. It makes her look sophisticated, though, more mature than the woman he knows who squeals at cartoon kittens without any shame. 

Dan doesn’t know if it’s her statement or the way she addresses him, casually but obviously after having given it some thought, but it makes a blush creep onto his cheeks. Everyone else is still focused on the argument going on and obviously paying no attention to either of them, but it still makes him self conscious, like they could be listening in at every moment. “Oh, uh -”

“It’s true,” Kevin interjects, leaning into Dan’s side to get closer to the two of them. He’s whispering, as if the conversation they’re having is a secret, but really Dan knows that it’s mostly because of the booming voice that he’s quite aware of. “You even started interacting in the group chat!”

Dan can hardly suppress an eyeroll at that, albeit an amused one. The group chat is an abomination that Kevin and a few other people in the creative department had created, a way to talk to each other without abusing the company’s Slack account. Dan quickly found out that it was basically a way to gently gossip about people in the other departments and send awful memes found on the internet. It’s a bit overwhelming, and truth be told he doesn’t use it  _ much _ , but he does drop a message or two at least once a day - if only to stop Kevin from throwing him the random eraser whenever someone asks him a question in the chat and he doesn’t reply.

“You make it sound like I’m some weird loner or something.”

Louise chuckles, and he can already feel the agreement that is about to come. “Well, can you blame us? You barely talked the first couple of days.”

“I - I was shy!”

“Shut up Howell, there isn’t an inch of shyness in all of your freakishly long bones.”

He kind of wants to smack Kevin in the head at the loud laugh that he lets out. “She’s got a point, mate,” Kevin says, and Dan would love to disagree - but he can’t. He’s never been shy, not really - just very anxious, about everything he’s ever done or said, which is quite different. 

“Of course I do,” comes Louise’s smug reply.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Look, it’s a good thing,” Kevin rushes to continue, brown eyes wide as if really concerned that Dan will get offended. “If anything, now I just need you to stop jumping whenever someone gets near you, and then I’ll have nothing else to complain about.”

Dan can’t help but put his face in his hands at that, groaning out loud.“Oh my god.”

“Do you still do that?” 

He can hear the smirk in Kevin’s voice when he says, “oh, he does. I’m kind of glad that Phil is away for a while so I don’t have to shit myself whenever Dan jumps.”

“I really hate you both.”

“Oh yeah,” Louise muses, turning her head to shift her gaze from Kevin to Dan. “He left for his round of conferences, didn’t he? How’s that going?”

Over the weeks, Dan has become quite close to Louise - her cheerful yet surprisingly crass humour a perfect match to his more sarcastic counterpart; the two of them have started to meet for breakfast most mornings, talking quietly over a cup of coffee and the occasional sweet pastry. He had always liked her, since the first time they met, always finding her company much more pleasant than any of his other coworkers, but somehow they had managed to go beyond the awkwardness of the beginning stages of their acquaintance and become actual friends. 

So it isn’t lost to him, the leading shade of her voice that tells him exactly what she’s really asking for. After all, Louise is the only person aware of Dan and Phil’s shaky start.

He pretends not to notice it, taking another bite of his dish if just to let her know that he doesn’t want to talk about it, not here. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t have to watch her face to know she’s rolling her eyes. “I mean, the project, obviously. What else?”

There’s a challenge in her voice that he decisively ignores. “Slow, but everything seems to be fine. There’s a call scheduled for next week, so Phil and I are gonna go over a couple of things before that.”

Kevin hums, the sound loud enough that Dan has no problem hearing it even with the clamor going on around the room. “Over email? God, sounds like hell.”

“No, uh, we’re gonna Skype I think, tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll, uh, be quicker like that.”

The two of them blink at him, but seem to deem his answer acceptable, going back to their lunch and leaving Dan to his own thoughts.

It was Phil who had proposed it, obviously, the day before he left for his first trip. He had walked into the graphic department, mug in his hand - the same cacti one that Dan had given back to him after their first proper meeting, when they had finally managed to smooth things over. Surprisingly, Dan hadn’t jumped at Phil’s arrival - his music wasn’t loud, the need to focus on what he was drawing on Illustrator much more present than the need for one of his favorite Spotify playlists. 

He had given Phil a questioning look when he turned to look at him, a mixture of surprise and dread in his chest at the sight of him. They had seen each other at least twice a week since the meeting, but whenever it happened, it was scheduled and usually in Phil or PJ’s office, depending on the update that had to be discussed. This, Phil coming over to his desk, was unprecedented. 

Dan hadn’t been able to do much but say an awkward hi and accept the cup of steaming coffee that Phil pushed in between his hands, no questions needed.  _ A request of forgiveness _ , he had said, a sheepish smile on his face before he explained that he was about to leave for a couple of weeks and that they would probably need to schedule a few Skype calls during that time, so that neither of them would have to pause their work. And, because Phil was going to be in different timezones, some of those calls could only happen outside office hours. Hence, the coffee.

He should’ve been annoyed at that, knowing that he was going to have to work even during his free time - although PJ had assured him that he could clock those hours and take a day off to compensate for it - but really the only coherent thought that was going through Dan’s mind was how weird the next few weeks would be without seeing Phil in person.

Maybe he should’ve been relieved at that.

But Dan can’t help the slight disappointment that he feels hearing the news. He has started to think of bright blue eyes and squared shoulders as a weekly bonus, despite knowing he shouldn’t - and against all his better judgement he knows he’s going to miss them. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dan sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to ignore the headache that is threatening to arrive any second, repeatedly shifting his gaze from the ceiling of his own lounge to the clock on his laptop.

_ This is a terrible idea,  _ he thinks for the umpteenth time, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he fidgets with the loose threads of the blanket he's thrown on his lap. He checks his appearance in the screen again, tugging at a few stray curls so they'll fall just right. 

It's pointless, really, to try and look anything but someone who has been awake for fourteen hours and wants nothing more than to go to sleep, not wait for a work Skype call at nine in the evening.

He should've said no, should've told Phil that no, actually, he wasn't available to have a check in call that night, because their work hours are 9 - 5 and no longer. But he would've hated himself for it, Dan knows it, would've chastised himself and anxiously wondered whether Phil disliked him again now - if he ever really stopped - or whether he was already looking for someone else to step in for Dan the moment he was inevitably fired for refusing to Skype his project manager.

He sighs again, mentally cursing Phil - with his business trips around the world that force them to work around the different time zones - but more than anything else, Dan curses himself for overthinking everything, including something as simple as this.

When the first ring of the Skype tone resonates in the otherwise silent apartment, Dan takes a deep breath.  _ Calm down,  _ he tells himself, willing his heart to stop racing,  _ it’s a simple skype call to discuss the project. It’s no different to what you do at the office, just act the same. _

He casts another glance at his reflection on the screen and, after deeming himself presentable, he hits the  _ Answer  _ button.

There's something unsettling about the idea of having a conversation with Phil that isn't confined between the thin walls of Accordion. Maybe it's the more informal setting, with the hotel bed right behind Phil, the lights casting weird shadows on his face, making the white of his hoodie even brighter, or maybe it’s something else, something Dan can’t quite pinpoint; whatever it is, there's something that makes Phil look softer, younger, a somewhat subdued version of the man Dan has gotten so used to over the past weeks.

Even Phil’s voice is softer, an awkward smile on his face as he waves his hand and says, “hey Dan.”

“H-hey Phil,” Dan says back, trying to subtly clear his throat, suddenly dry from the nervous feeling that is still running through his body. He straightens his back a little bit, enough to look less slouched down while still being comfortable - and if he’s wearing his star wars pajamas underneath the light grey blanket, well, Phil doesn’t have to know.

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” Phil continues, sounding almost overly polite, “I know you probably had something better to do, but what with the update call in two days and the hectic schedule of this conference I was worried we would miss important information if we only talked over emails.”

Dan recognizes the slightly faster speech Phil is using, the one Dan himself uses whenever he’s afraid of what the other person’s reaction might be if he doesn’t have the chance to explain his point properly. It makes the grip in his stomach loosen up a little bit. 

“It’s fine really,” he says, waving a hand in the air to emphasize his point. “It’s not like I was doing much anyway, it was either this or pointless eBay browsing.” 

He feels the beginning of a blush as soon as the words have left his mouth, and he would slap himself if the camera wasn’t on. Why would he say something that lame, to Phil? They’re not friends, and Dan really doesn’t need to give him any more excuses to think he’s weird. 

To his surprise, Phil seems more amused than anything else. “And here I was thinking I was the only one with weird 2am shopping habits.”

A spluttering of laughter comes out of Dan’s mouth. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know what’s in my browser history.”

“I mean, I think I’ll have you beat.”

“You can try but, really, there’s some stuff in there I’m honestly ashamed to even think of.”

“Well, you’ll just have to show me and then I’ll be the judge.”

If Dan is shocked by how comfortable the back and forth feels, he hopes Phil doesn’t notice - and he doesn’t seem to have, if the grin on his face and the way his eyes are dancing on the screen are anything to go by. 

“No but, really,” Phil starts, voice less filled with amusement, “I know that, at least for me, working is the last thing I want to do in the evenings. So I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad you do, but honestly, don’t worry about it. I'm usually quite productive during the night time and so I'm pretty used to it.”

“Oh, right, guess when you work on your own you don't really have to stick to common business hours.”

Dan shrugs, too simple of a reply to what is really a much broader and complicated topic - one that encompasses the pro and cons of freelancers bowing down to society's needs even when it's not required from their own jobs, to ensure a more professional look in the eye of old fashioned clients.

“Eh, more or less. It's good for creativity, but I've also had to refrain myself from replying to people at 4 in the morning or else they'd think I was some kind of sleep deprived weirdo.” 

_ Which is true,  _ he doesn't add, although it's right there, on the tip of his tongue, threatening to escape along with many other words, words that are too honest, too close to who the real Dan is, too risky, showing off parts of his personality that he doesn't think Phil should know - or at least not yet.

However, Phil seems quite fascinated from what he already knows, his face open and interested as he listens to him. “I keep forgetting that you have a much more diverse experience than most people in apprenticeships.” He smiles, an obvious attempt to please Dan and reduce the guilt he likely felt for such a late call. “I'm quite lucky, to work with someone smart and already experienced like you, really.”

If Dan was smarter, if he was able to keep a professional distance between him and Phil, remind himself that despite the casual atmosphere this is still a business call - if he could do any of those, he would know right away that Phil was trying to compliment him.

If he was anything but a giant idiot, he would keep the cutting replies to himself, bury the sarcasm deep down in his mind, unable to be let out around someone like Phil.

But that doesn't happen.

“Weird thing to say, considering you didn't want me to work with you at first.”

“That is not true!”

“Oh please, you could barely look at me without letting me know how  _ unfit _ for the project I am.”

Silence falls heavily between them, seemingly lasting for hours. Phil's mouth is slightly open

in a shocked expression, eyes wide behind the glasses he's wearing. 

If Dan could slap himself, if he didn't think the action would only make things worse and more awkward, he wouldn't hesitate. He doesn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to relax so much over the course of the conversation - Phil is nice, and they have definitely gotten over the beginning stage of their partnership, over the first tense days of working together, but it doesn’t change the fact that, for all that matters, Phil is still one of his managers. 

It doesn't matter how at ease he feels while they're talking, the internet connection between them making him feel like they're not two co-workers discussing a project late at night because it's the only way they can get any further with their work - instead, it makes him feel like they could build a real connection, just Dan and Phil and an understanding of each other's abilities, deep enough that it feels like they could create anything by working together.

The reality is, however, that he and Phil are coworkers and Dan can't let himself loosen up as much, can't afford putting himself at risk of saying too much, of being too honest, of showing Phil exactly what he’s thinking when the artificial lights of Phil’s hotel room catch in his hair in just the right way, turning the jet black of it into an almost reflective blue that Dan can’t stop staring at, even through the slightly pixelated camera.

Dan is already starting to think of ways to end the conversation when Phil speaks up, interrupting his train of thoughts.

“You know I never really thought that, right?” The question is asked in a low voice, almost timid, Phil's eyes staring at Dan's face rather than focusing on the camera like he had been doing for the past thirty minutes. 

“Hm,” it's the only thing that Dan can say, not trusting himself to let out more than he feels comfortable with, not when Phil is looking at him like that, seemingly honest and almost upset.

“No, like, I mean it,” Phil continues, breathing out in a huff. “I mean, yeah, I was a bit of an asshole at first, I'll admit it.”

There's a smirk threatening to show up on Dan's face. “Only a bit?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't seem offended by the sarcasm in Dan's voice. “What I mean is that, yeah, I wasn't the best person at first, and like, I'm really sorry about it, okay? But, Dan, it was never about you.”

Dan hates how small his voice sounds when he says, “you can admit it, it's fine.”

“No, I promise, it wasn't. Like, sure, I wasn't really aware of how good you really were so I was a bit hesitant, especially because I only had PJ's word to trust and that's hard to do sometimes, but I didn't have anything against  _ you _ .”

For the first time since the call started, Dan focuses on the way Phil looks - not just the attractiveness of him, which is something he’s honestly starting to get accustomed to, but more like the overall look of him, the depth of his undereye bags, the soft looking hoodie he’s wearing instead of a proper shirt, how casually he’s seated on the bed, back to the headboard, his hair softly falling on his forehead.

It makes him wonder if Phil would be saying something like this if they were back at the office, if he wasn't as tired and didn’t felt as guilty. Dan wants to believe he would, wants to believe that Phil is indeed someone he can trust, someone he can work with and maybe even learn from. 

It's risky, but for how insecure Dan is in his life, at the same time he rarely shies away from a challenge.

“I believe you.”

The smile Phil gives him is both the smallest and also the most blinding Dan has ever seen. Without realizing it, he finds himself pressing down on his keyboard to capture the image on the screen, knowing without a doubt that he will want to look at this again in the future, at the way Phil is looking at him, soft and content and like they’ve reached some kind of beginning.

“Good, I'm glad,” Phil says, the soft smile still drawn on his lips even when he finally breaks eye contact, gaze lowering down to his own keyboard as he  _ finally _ seems to remember that they have work to do. “So, about the second mockup you sent me yesterday, I agree that a good look would be to have the colors blend together -”

Dan mostly tunes him out, ears still picking up the sound of his voice but his mind is miles and miles away, racing with all kinds of different thoughts about the man on his screen and the conversation that just happened, the wave of feelings hitting him at the idea that Phil seems to be warming up to him, almost overwhelming.

It’s staggering, how often Dan finds himself completely at a loss on how to deal with the confused mix of emotions Phil is able to elicit inside of him.

He really needs to be careful from now on, he thinks to himself, if his racing heartbeat is anything to go by.

\--

The first days of December roll around before Dan has time to notice. It shouldn't make that much of a difference, London doesn't exactly change between November and December - still rainy and freezing cold, not enough to let random snowflakes fall from the sky, but it does mean that seeing his breath whenever he talks is a common occurrence. However, the lack of snow doesn't stop the shops from decorating, colouring the city with splashes of red and green and white, sparkles and twinkles at every corner.  The streets are filled with people walking around with huge shopping bags and soft looking coats, enjoying the look of fake Christmas trees and the smell of spices and sugar from bakeries and street vendors, enticing pedestrians with mulled wine and mince pies. 

Dan isn't the biggest fan of Christmas, but even he can't help but feel the contagious cheer of the oncoming holiday, especially when he steps into the office one Monday morning and his eyes are suddenly assaulted by the glitter and sparkles of a big decorated tree right next to the entrance, a few wrapped boxes littered underneath. He falters on his steps as he looks at the sight in front of him, curious and a bit perplexed. 

The entire office has apparently been transformed into a winter wonderland, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling everywhere Dan looks. Even his office hasn’t been spared, he realizes as he steps inside, and notices the way his desk is now covered in christmas clutter and even a fake small tree on the side. 

“What’s all this?” He asks in disbelief, inspecting his desk. It’s with a sigh of relief that he realizes that no, thankfully there’s no glitter around. 

“Goodmorning,” is David’s reply, the leading tone letting Dan knows that he has once again forgotten to greet his coworkers upon entering the room. It’s not his fault, really, that he keeps staying up late and waking up at the last minute, scrambling around to dress decently enough instead of succumbing to the desire of keeping his sweatpants on.  

“Yeah, sorry, morning,” Dan says, shrugging his coat off while keeping an eye on the decorations scattered around the room. He’s even more surprised when he notices that one of the whiteboards hung on the walls - one that had been completely clean when they left on Friday - is covered in doodles, reindeers and Santas taking up the whole space. “What’s all this?”

“Christmas,” is David’s reply, said with a shrug as if there’s nothing else to say. It’s clear from his still half lidded eyes that he hasn’t had any coffee yet, the green of them bleary and unfocused. Dan can relate, he isn’t feeling much better, and he would still be a zombie, groaning out replies instead of really saying them, if it wasn’t for the shock of the bright decorations. 

He decides not to say the sarcastic reply that he can feel on the tip of his tongue - he knows better. He likes David, he likes all the people in his department, really, but there are definitely some he feels more at ease with, David being one of them. It’s surprising in itself, at least for Dan’s standards, what with having spent most of his life in a state of discomfort whenever social interactions were involved. He’s never been good with people, at least not in person. He does great behind a screen, behind the protective wall of an internet connection and the safety that comes with writing his words instead of saying them, giving himself the time to think them through and make sure they won’t be misunderstood. 

It makes it even more surprising that his relationship with Phil has progressed so much over the past weeks, he reasons as he starts his computer. Their conversations over Skype have quickly gone from feeling awkward and stilted to something Dan has found himself enjoying more and more; hours upon hours spent talking about the project for as long as it’s necessary and then simply sharing stories about themselves, about the things they like and the things they don’t, like friends do. 

Dan has stopped dreading talking to Phil over Skype, and instead found himself dreading the moment they have to end the call, the moment he won’t have any excuses left to keep talking to Phil, keep eliciting the smiles that make his eyes crinkle and his complexion glow with happiness. 

He refuses to recognize exactly why he’s started to feel that way. He knows that, the moment he does, he won’t be able to ignore it. 

Opening his emails, he doesn’t bat an eye when the first message on his screen is from Phil. However, his heart jumps into his throat the moment he reads the subject line. 

**Casual Christmas Hangout - December 15th.** He doesn’t know if he should be laughing or be concerned when he opens it to find out that the actual body of the email is just an animated picture of a corgi wearing a santa hat, the same subject of the email repeated underneath along with the time of the event, 9.30pm.

His heart is beating fast as he blinks at his screen, almost like the picture will change if he does so enough times. It’s an invitation, that much is clear, but why? What does it mean? Is anyone else going to be there, or is Dan the only one invited? 

That last question is answered by Kevin’s voice coming from behind him, close enough and so sudden that Dan can’t help but jump. “Oh, cool! I was wondering when the party was happening.”

The accusing gaze that Dan sends his way is completely ignored by Kevin, who simply shrugs off his coat as he walks to his desk. It’s fair, Dan thinks. After all, everyone has been pretty much brushing off Dan’s jumpy reactions since his second week, when it became clear it was something that wouldn’t go away any time soon. “What?”

“The Christmas party, we have one every year,” Kevin continues as if it’s obvious, eyes unmoving from the monitor that he’s turning on. “Phil usually tells us way sooner, but I guess he’s been busy travelling around.”

Phil is indeed busy, Dan can confirm that. At first, when Phil told him he would be away for almost a month, speaking at a round of conferences in different countries, he had been worried that he wouldn’t have enough time to dedicate to their project, too tired from interacting with people to actually focus on Dan. Phil had surprised him, of course, not only willingly replying to whatever question Dan had, but also eager to actually  _ talk  _ to him, listen to him. It helped to explain the newfound fluttering in Dan’s stomach.

Dan decides a quick trip to the kitchenette is what he needs to clear his head, the smell of freshly brewed coffee enough of a distraction that he can tune out the conversation that is still going on.

A few moments later he hears the  sound of Kevin’s footsteps following him into the kitchen, as loud as everything else about him. Dan usually doesn’t mind his company, but he can feel that Kevin wants to ask him something, a nervous vibe surrounding him. 

It’s after the sixth or seventh time that Kevin tries to subtly clear his throat, that Dan takes pity of him, turning around to face him with a small smile. “Yes?”

There’s a faint blush on Kevin’s face as he lowers his brown eyes to the floor, almost like he can’t quite meet Dan’s gaze, embarrassed at being so obvious. “You, uh, left the room quickly.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, sending another quick glance his way before the sound of the boiling water steals his attention. “You want a cup?”

“Mh.”

They stay silent for a bit, elbows touching as they prepare their coffees at the same time. It’s weird, how sharing parts of his daily routines has become almost second nature to Dan, something that he does without a second thought. It’s so different from his very first days in the office, when even being in a room with other people would make him feel on edge, his heart constantly beating fast as he felt imaginary eyes all over him, watching him, judging him.

Drinking coffee with Kevin before starting their daily tasks is good, it’s comforting. Dan is glad that he’s found people he likes, that he can call friends. He never thought that he would feel like this, really, not in a work environment - he’s almost afraid of how much he likes it, how  _ right _ it feels, afraid he’s going to lose it soon. 

“So, do you know where Phil’s house is?”

Dan almost chokes on his mouthful of coffee at Kevin’s sudden question, barely resisting the urge to spit the drink out. He swallows with difficulty before replying, voice hoarse as he tries not to cough, “what?”

“For the party, you know?”

“Oh, uh, no I - actually, I think I’m gonna skip it, you know-” he mumbles, hiding his face in the cup of coffee to try and escape the outrage that quickly takes over Kevin’s face. 

“What? Oh,  _ no _ . No way Danny, you're  _ not  _ gonna avoid this. You can't.”

“Kev, really, I don't think -”

Kevin interrupts him before he can get another word in, crossing his arms over his chest in what he probably thinks is an intimidating gesture, but in reality only makes him look petulant, lips pursed and cheeks puffed. “The entire department is going, it's a tradition! Last year the party was at PJ's house and it was  _ amazing, _ you'll love it.”

He almost feels trapped by the pleading eyes that Kevin is sending his way, knows too well the kind of disappointment that he will generate if he keeps saying no, but there’s already a reply on the tip of his tongue

“I mean, I’m still an intern, not really part of the department.”

He says it with what he hopes is a joking tone, but it’s clear from the small frown showing up in between Kevin’s auburn eyebrows that Dan should really stop using humor to cope with his insecurities, or at least stop doing it around other people. 

“Dan -”

“I’m joking, I - it was a joke.”

There’s another bit of silence as they look uncomfortably at each other, their coffees almost forgotten. It seems to take even longer for Kevin to sigh and speak up again. “Look, if you really don’t want to go I won’t force you, I know how you are with crowds.”

Dan opens his mouth to answer, but Kevin doesn’t let him, one hand raising in a clear  _ stop  _ motion. 

“No, listen, you know I don’t mean it in a negative way, so please - like, don’t feel bad.” Kevin’s tone is rushed and there’s the almost constant faint blush on his cheeks, the one that shows up when he feels like there’s too much attention on him. “But PJ and Phil organize it every year and it’s always really fun, and Phil’s house is cool and we always end up playing games and drinking and - you’d enjoy it. He’s a great host.” 

His heart skips a beat at the mental picture that Kevin’s words conjure in his mind, mildly terrified by the idea of experiencing Phil in a setting both as casual and intimate as his apartment will be. He shouldn’t do it, he know it - knows he probably won’t be able to stop the butterflies that have already begun fluttering in his stomach. What will happen, Dan wonders, if he lets himself do it, if he lets himself destroy yet another boundary between them?

Nevermind that Kevin and apparently most other people in the office are also going to be there - Dan knows himself, knows the traitorous way his mind works. Knows only too well the pull that Phil has started to have on him, with his eyes and his face and his everything, how brilliant he is, how gorgeous. How hard he makes Dan laugh, how carefully he listens.

Dan knows he’d lost this battle before it had even started, a resigned sigh escaping his mouth as he lets nods and heads back to his desk, defeated.

-

Phil's apartment is exactly how Dan imagined it would be and yet at the same very different. It's bigger than his, which isn't surprising when he considers just how small his one bedroom flat is, and how Phil must definitely have a much better salary than he does, being one of the higher ups and all that.

He doesn't know what to expect when Phil greets him and Louise at the door - he asked her to come with him with the excuse that he wasn’t sure he would easily find the building, nevermind the fact that it's on a main street, the nearest tube station a mere 5 minutes walk away. But Louise never questioned him, simply smiled at him with the warmth he's come to associate her with, agreeing without batting an eye, because she’s nice like that.

Dan is even more thankful for her agreeing to come the moment he sees Phil in front of him, in real life, for the first time in almost two weeks. He thought that by now he would be accustomed to the sight of him, the impossible blue of his eyes, how effortlessly beautiful he is. He was wrong, clearly, because he finds himself sucking in a breath at the way Phil smiles at him as if he's meeting an old friend, before engulfing the both of them in a brief hug.

He isn't stupid, he knows that the flutter that has started to surface in his stomach every time he talks to Phil means that he isn't indifferent to him - honestly, was he ever? But seeing him here, in a space that is so absolutely  _ Phil  _ \- nothing could ever prepare him for that.

“Come on, come on, get a drink you two!” 

As they follow Phil through the entrance and into the lounge, Dan can’t help but let his eyes roam the room, endeared by a space that reminds him so much of the man he’s come to know in the past weeks. The lounge is filled with bookshelves, rows and rows of colourful covers, all speaking of different worlds and different stories. Colour is the most prominent feature of the apartment, in the shape of anime and movies figurines, the spotted throw pillows on the spacious grey couch and the brightness of the christmas lights decorating the shelves and the large christmas tree in the corner. 

There’s already a few people scattered around, deep in conversation, holding plastic flutes of what looks like a bright red concoction, the same one that Phil places in their hands. Louise takes a sip of it without questioning it, the liquid matching the colour of her lipstick. Dan eyes the drink warily, overwhelmed by the sugary smell of it. 

“Oh stop with that frown, take a sip,” Phil encourages him as he seems to notice his hesitation. “It’s good, I promise! PJ helped me make it.”

Later, when he’s had a couple of drinks and he’s feeling less on edge, Dan knows that he will blame his brain for this, will blame himself for the mental picture that he’s come up with - Phil standing in his kitchen with a Christmas jumper similar to the one he’s wearing, soft and colourful and giving him a youthful look that tugs somewhere at Dan’s chest, tongue caught in between his teeth as he mixes liqueur after liqueur without following a recipe, PJ shaking his head in amused defeat. 

It’s so easy to imagine, so easy to get lost in the domestic fantasy of it, the strange familiarity of it despite being something completely imaginary. So easy, and yet so dangerous.

He takes a sip of the drink under Phil’s expectant gaze, if only to stop his wandering thoughts - before widening his eyes the moment the flavour of it hits his tongue. It’s so sweet and smooth that it flows down his throat way too quickly, making him crave even more. “Oh my god,” he groans out, almost embarrassingly so, “this is incredible.”

There’s a proud glow in Phil’s eyes as he watches him, the flickering of the lights dancing on his face. “I’m glad you like it. There’s more if you want.” He gestures to the kitchen in a clear invitation to follow him, as if Dan could do anything but be in the same space as he is. Louise isn’t next to them anymore, and Dan should probably be more surprised that he didn’t notice her leaving, but honestly, he doesn’t want to question himself when he already knows the answer.

Even the kitchen screams  _ Phil _ when Dan steps foot inside, overwhelmed by the tiny plastic animals scattered around, along with dozens of pictures attached to every surface, from the black fridge to the off-grey walls. It’s a different vibe from his own rented place, where he’s scared of sticking anything on the walls for fear of ruining it and losing his deposit. He likes a clean aesthetic that much is sure, but he prefers the way Phil’s apartment looks, cozy and lived in, clearly a home. 

He takes advantage of the way Phil is focusing on being the perfect host - insisting that Dan needs a clean glass to properly taste his infamous punch - and he gets closer to the fridge where he can see a couple of pictures stuck to it, curiosity getting the best on him.

If Phil notices him, he doesn’t seem to care as Dan takes one photograph in his hand to study it carefully. The Phil in the picture is younger, although probably not by more than a couple of years. His face isn’t much different, the beginning of smile lines and wrinkles on his forehead as he’s smiling wide at the camera. There’s another guy in the picture with him, arm placed on Phil’s shoulder, eyes the same impossible shade of blue and grey. 

Dan can’t help but chuckle at that, one hand raising to cover his mouth in an attempt to hide the hiccup that is threatening to escape. “Oh God, your hair!”

“What?” Phil asks as he turns to look at him, shifting his focus from the pitcher of ponce to Dan’s finger, pointing out the mane of black hair. His eyes widen as he finally seems to realize what Dan is looking at. “No, stop that, put that away! Stop laughing!”

“Very emo-esque Phil, I’m impressed! Is that eyeliner as well?”

“It was the fashion!”

“Sure, you can tell yourself that.”

It only makes Dan laugh harder, the panic and embarrassment written all over Phil’s face. He lets out a choked shriek as the man launches over, spilling the drink all over his hands in his haste to reach out and grab the picture from Dan’s grasp. 

They play fight for a few seconds, Dan’s hold loose enough so that if Phil wanted to really take it away, he easily could. It’s obvious from the way Phil is mostly laughing, though, that he’s just playing along, amusement dancing in his eyes as his fingers brush Dan’s without really grasping. 

“Okay, fine, you can have it!” 

A  _ whoop  _ of victory comes out of Dan’s mouth as Phil groans and lets the picture go, panting exaggeratingly as he places his hands on the counter and pretends to regain his breath. Dan can feel his mouth stretched in a wide smile, happiness surging through him. He’s tuned out the people in the other room completely, focused only on this moment and this room, with Phil. 

It’s dangerous, to think like that, to  _ feel  _ like that -  the kind of danger that Dan is drawn to. 

But then Phil shakes his head and hands him a new drink, a soft smile still on his lips as he starts talking about something he did while he was away; his body completely turned to Dan and showing no signs of caring about what anyone else is doing, and really, Dan can’t help but think that maybe he isn’t the only one enjoying this, more than he probably should be.

\--

Going back to work after Christmas feels different. 

Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in years he’s spent the holidays without working, actually enjoying the time off and lounging around instead of glued to his laptop, worrying about the random job he’s managed to get right before Christmas. It had felt both good and weird, and his mum remarked on how glad she was that Dan was spending time with them. Dan couldn’t blame her, really - he isn’t the greatest company when it comes to family time, always feeling slightly uncomfortable and on edge whenever he’s back at his family house. 

While he’s there, he tries not to think too much. It took him a couple of days to become accustomed with the new daily routine, and he kept waking up in the mornings feeling panicked that he would be late for work. He felt silly for it, but then he blamed the fact that he kept talking to people from work - Louise, Kevin, Sarah. 

And Phil, of course Phil.

It seemed like the Christmas party had destroyed what little wall was left between them, taking out the remaining hesitancy that Dan still felt whenever they interacted - the need to be professional all the time, holding back sarcastic remarks and forcing himself to talk strictly about work unless Phil decided to do otherwise. 

So they’ve been talking about everything, even during the holidays, when the excuse of the project was nowhere to be found. It isn’t exactly a bad thing - they click surprisingly well, have more things in common than Dan would ever guess, and their conversations are never dull. Really, Dan sometimes has to force himself to stop texting, reminding himself that this isn’t okay, that this isn’t something he should do.

Except he doesn’t last long, especially when Phil doesn’t seem to be having the same mental juggle.

With the beginning of the new year, though, and their return to the office, Dan can feel a switch happening. Nothing in particular happens, not really, but he can feel himself tense up whenever he’s around Phil - which is a lot.

They spend even more time together as they start scheduling daily check ins to keep themselves updated on everything that’s going on. Dan finishes the first draft design and waits worriedly as Phil sends it out with an attached explanation of the scheduling. Phil tells him to calm down, a warm hand on his shoulder in what he thinks is a comforting gesture, but it only makes Dan tense up more, aware of nothing but the softness of Phil’s touch, so close to the bare skin of his neck that he can almost imagine it.

“Come on,” he says, shrugging Phil’s hand off in what he hopes is a subtle way, trying to hide the shiver that passes through his body. 

Phil doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t say. He seems to have reached a new kind of comfort level when it comes to Dan, invading his personal space more and more, looking absolutely at ease as he does so.   

It’s driving Dan crazy, honestly, but he doesn’t know how to stop him - and he isn’t sure he really wants him to.

So he doesn’t say anything, and despite himself, despite how on edge he feels all the time, hyper-aware of Phil’s proximity and how much worse the fluttering in his stomach gets every time another soft smile is sent his way - despite all of this, he finds himself leaning into Phil’s space and reciprocating every single smile, enamoured with how much he enjoys it, this growing feeling inside of him. 

\--

Dan has always wanted to travel.

It’s the one thing he’s always been interested in, since he was a teenager - the idea of being able to wake up in a different part of the world whenever he wants, exploring the different cultures that he so often finds himself ignoring, despite the vast multiculturalism London is made of. 

It’s one of the advantages he saw in being a freelancer, not being tied down to an office desk, the freedom to be able to work whenever he wanted, wherever he pleased.

If he’s honest with himself, when he first applied for the internship at Accordion he was sure he would never get the chance, as long as he worked there. It’s not something expected from his position, he knows, travelling in different cities to have meetings and participate in conferences. He’s not even sure that he would like it, always feeling like he has to be on, surrounded by foreign beauty that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to enjoy for his own pleasure. 

When Phil first brings up the meeting in Milan, Dan has to admit that he thinks it has nothing to do with him. He listens to him talk about the meaningless details, the travel time and dates, the hotel options, the meeting space the Mulién representatives have chosen to hold the meeting in - meanwhile humming to himself as he sketches the last lines on the design, eyes moving back and forth between his own screen and the new list of features that Phil had given him only ten minutes before. 

He starts paying attention when Phil starts asking  _ his  _ opinion, raising his eyes from the design to frown up at him. “You’re awfully interested in my opinion on this trip.”

It seems like Dan’s sentence is enough to surprise Phi out of his ramblings. He turns in his seat to stare at Dan with a look that seems to indicate he thinks Dan has said something stupid, head tilting to the side. 

“Yeah, because making sure you enjoy the weekend just as much as me is really terrible.” 

Dan isn't sure, but he thinks Phil might be rolling his eyes at him - he could check, if his brain wasn't still reeling from the underlying meaning in Phil's words. "Wait, what -  you mean I’m  _ invited _ ?"

There's a moment of silence before Phil lets out a strained “oh, Dan,” clearly amused.

No one should sound as attractive as Phil does when he starts chuckling at Dan, the sound of it low and rich and so close to Dan's ears that he can feel the skin around them prickle. 

“Shut up,” he says, reaching out to lightly push him away, embarrassment colouring his voice.

Phil leans back with the push, before he seems to realize there’s no back to his chair - which isn’t even a chair, and really, what is with these people’ obsession with bouncy balls instead of nice, comfortable chairs. It would look ridiculous if his arm didn’t reach out to grab at Dan, fingers holding onto the material of his jumper, body still bouncing lightly on the ball, the subtle up and down of his hips that keeps driving Dan crazy. 

God, Dan needs to stop thinking about the way Phil’s body is moving. He hopes Phil doesn’t notice the way his cheeks have gone red, warmth probably spreading down his neck - and if he does, he hopes he thinks it’s because he’s embarrassed by his reaction the trip, and not because he can’t stop thinking about how good Phil looks, in his maroon jumper and casual black jeans. 

He needs a distraction. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too flustered when he demands, “tell me about Milan,” but thankfully Phil does just that, all kind smiles and eagerness to please.

\--

Milan, it turns out, is at the same time exactly like Dan expects it to be and also not at all. The city itself is nowhere near as big as London, but it almost feels more chaotic to Dan, the fast pace of the people walking around them enough to make him dizzy. It’s loud too, the sounds of pedestrians and cars honking on the streets mixing together to create a cacophony that is hard to ignore. 

There’s something about it that leaves him absolutely fascinated, so much so that he can’t help but say so to Phil as they’re walking on the pavement, his eyes big and filled with wonder at the fancy clothes and accessories adorning every shop window. 

“You’re such a posh boy,” Phil says as they’re walking, voice muffled by the scarf he’s wearing around his neck. 

Dan wants to scoff at him, but it’s hard to do so when his eyes are met with one of Phil’s fond smiles, all rosy cheeks and crinkles around the eyes. He ducks his head and keeps walking, trying not to focus on the closeness of Phil’s body or the way that the fabric of his coat brushes every once in a while with Dan’s, eliciting a weird kind of electricity within him.

The streets of Milan seem almost brighter.  

-

The meeting ends up being held in a quieter part of the city, nice without being too over the top. They meet around 7pm, which sounds absolutely ridiculous to Dan but, Phil explains, it’s to take advantage of the luscious happy hour offered by the venue, which the Mulién representatives seem to particularly appreciate. 

It's more a check on the overall strategy than something focused on the design process itself, which he doesn't mind. 

Phil does most of the talking, and Dan happily lets him, content to have an excuse to watch him engage in conversation without feeling too self conscious about it. It's fascinating to see him in action, really - his hands move in the air as he speaks, accompanying his words with delicate gestures that Dan wants to catalogue, wants to engrave each one of them in his brain, to cherish and analyze. His voice is soft as he explains his view, engaging but firm enough to get his point across. He listens carefully and seems to consider everything the other person says, agreeing without being condescending and disagreeing without sounding stubborn.

He's the perfect mix of professional and amicable and it's painfully obvious that the Mulién executives think the same, all three of them seemingly captivated by the ideas he's presenting. 

The moment he stops explaining why, in his opinion, there needs to be a different copywriting direction to better fit the strategy he envisions, silence falls over the five of them. 

It only lasts for a few moments, before Dennis, Mulién’s brand manager, shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You're a tough one, Lester,” he says, his accent thick. “But I agree with you, we need a more inclusive message than the one we're using right now.”

Phil smiles, clearly pleased. 

“Thank you, but this was more Dan's idea than mine.”

Dan both hates and loves the swell of pride that surges through him at those words, the warm feeling that - he hopes - isn't showing on his face. As he turns to give a look to Phil, he finds him already looking back, blue eyes shimmering.

“Well then, Howell, let's take a look at the new proposal -”

\--

“We need to celebrate!” 

Phil’s enthusiasm is contagious as they stumble back to the hotel, bellies full of delicious food and hearts warm after a successful meeting. Dan isn’t sure how they managed to pull it off, but they must have made quite the impression - in the end, it doesn’t matter. Dennis was thoroughly impressed with their presentation, so much so that he accepted the quotation for a the copywriting of the campaign without too much fuss. 

He can’t help the grin that starts spreading over his face as they make their way to the cocktail lounge below the entrance, not even trying to complain. He loves the way Phil’s eyes are shining with glee and the slight skip Dan notices in his footing. 

Although, they might need to set some ground rules. “Fine, but only one drink. I don’t want to get sloshed.”

He shouldn’t find it so adorable, the exaggerated pout that Phil sends his way, but Dan is hopeless to its power. “Nooo,” Phil whines, voice going high pitched enough that a couple of people turn to look at them, frowns on their faces. “We need at least a couple.  _ Each _ . We did so good in there, we deserve it!”

Dan shakes his head, trying - and failing - to contain the grin that starts to form on his face. “ _ You  _ deserve it, maybe. I barely did anything.”

“That is not true,” Phil says, lowering his tone so that it’s back to a normal volume and full of sincerity. “It would’ve taken me way longer to convince them if it wasn’t for your mockups.”

There’s no doubt in Dan’s mind that Phil did most of the convincing, but the praise feels too good to try and fight  - despite being annoyed with himself for it.

A posh looking waiter greets them at the entrance of the sleek cocktail lounge, only giving them a quick once over before leading them to a secluded boot. Dan suddenly feels underdressed, despite wearing his nicer clothes - in a futile attempt to look like he belongs and not like he’d been panicking over this trip for the past week and a half. 

Phil, on the other hand, looks completely at ease in his green button up, collar popped open and sleeves lightly rolled up to give him a more casual look. He scans the cocktails menu with interest, a few pieces of hair escaping his styled quiff. He’s annoyingly gorgeous, distractingly so and completely oblivious to the way Dan has to avert his eyes so that he doesn’t catch him staring, a blush creeping up on his face when he realizes how  _ romantic  _ the whole thing looks.

He hates the twist in his stomach at the idea. He needs to stop, stop, stop with this madness. Thinking that Phil is attractive is one thing, and a pretty understandable one given the way he looks - but anything more than that is downright dangerous. He can't go down that path, no matter the warmth spreading through him as he imagines it. 

It's irritating enough that he slams the menu shut, raising his hand to catch the attention of the waiter. He barely looks at Phil when he says, in the most polite tone he can muster,  “we're ready to order.” 

If Dan hoped the alcohol would help him calm down, he was completely wrong.

It's barely thirty minutes later when Phil raises his glass in a cheer motion, a clear invitation for Dan. “To us managing to get even more money out of this big ass project!” 

He’s already on his second drink - a bright yellow concoction that smells like what Dan imagines a tropical beach would, sugary and coconutty - and Dan is surprised to find that alcohol seems to loosen up Phil’s tongue quite a bit as well as bring some bright pink to his otherwise pale face.

Dan is still on his first one, trying to maintain some kind of dignity. He always feels on the edge of a precipice when he's around Phil, feeling the need to loosen up and be as comfortable around him as he wants to be, yet fighting to keep the distance that he feels is necessary.

It's tiring, and on nights like this - where the office seems so far away, both physically and mentally, when all he wants to do is enjoy Phil's company without thinking too hard about whether he should, when Phil is staring at him with bright eyes, legs outstretched so that they're grazing Dan's calf… on nights like this Dan finds it just a little too hard to resist it.

So he tips the glass back and finishes his cocktail in one gulp, the combination of vodka and cherry burning down his throat. He motions to the waiter, wordlessly askIng for another. 

Phil is looking at him with his head tilted, a relaxed smile on his lips. “ _ Finally,  _ you're loosening up!”

\--

“He was  _ obviously  _ into you.”

“No he wasn't! He's the waiter, he's supposed to make sure we're having a nice time.”

He can hear the exasperation in Phil's voice over the loud sound of their stumbling feet as they head towards the elevators. “Dan,  _ please _ . He literally asked if you were with me. Like, how forward do you need a man to be?”

Hearing those words is enough to deepen the flush that has been on his cheeks since the - admittedly very cute - waiter approached him with a bashful smile and his number written on a piece of paper, before sending an horrified look towards Phil and awkwardly asking if he’s okay, if he’s his  _ boyfriend _ . The surprised chuckle escaping Phil’s lips was enough to scare the poor guy away - while also mortifying Dan without repair.

And yet, Dan can’t help but think that Phil didn’t seem particularly upset by the comment.   

**“** Was it weird, for you?” 

Phil isn’t looking at him, all his focus on deciding which elevator to call for.  “Hm?”

“To, you know. Be mistaken for..”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Gay.”

Phil finally turns to look at him, seems to weigh the question for a few seconds; but before he can say anything, the doors of the elevator open, a metallic italian voice welcoming them. They shuffle over, silence hanging over their heads. 

_ Why did I say that? _ , Dan asks himself, staring at the immaculate flooring of the elevator. He wants to apologize, wants to be able to reach out and grab at the words that have left his mouth, bring them back inside him and forget he ever said anything.  _ Oh God what is he thinking, that is so inappropriate, he- _

“And here I thought I was fairly obvious.”

“Uh?”

“About being gay, I mean.”

Dan’s heart skips a beat as Phil speaks again, voice filled with amusement and - when Dan finally raises his eyes to look at him - a big grin on his face, the tip of his tongue poking out ever so slightly. 

“I - you. What?”

“Dan,” Phil says slowly, as if he’s trying very hard not to laugh at him, blue eyes shimmering in the artificial lights of the moving elevator, “why did you think I pushed so hard about this campaign being fair to the LGBT community?” 

Seconds pass, only filled with the heavy silence of Dan’s astonishment.  He can feel his own eyes widen comically, mouth opening and closing without a sound coming from it. There’s a white noise in his ears, the only coherent thought running through his brain,  _ Phil is gay. He’s gay. He’s my boss and he’s gay, oh god.  _

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Dan to feel like he can speak without making a fool of himself. Maybe. “So you, uh, weren’t upset that he thought we-”

Phil looks at him, head tilting lightly to the side. “Honestly, I was far more pleased he thought I’m anywhere near your league.”  

Dan sputters, unable to contain himself - not when Phil is standing right next to him looking like  _ that,  _ loosened up from the alcohol and the success of the day, positively  _ flirting _ with him. Their eyes lock and the air suddenly feels charged, so much so that Dan finds it hard to breathe.   

He knows Phil probably doesn’t mean anything with that, but a part of Dan wants to be mad at him, wants to grab him by the shoulder and shake him and tell him he should know better than to joke about it, not when they are alone, thousands of miles away from their job and everything that reminds Dan just how bad of an idea this is. He lets his eyes wander, scans Phl’s face almost like he’s searching for something.

And Phil lets him, his face open and gorgeous for Dan to look at. 

Before he can do anything, before he can say anything more than a murmured, “Phil-”, the doors of the elevator open, the metallic voice welcoming them to what Dan assumes is the 24th floor. 

He hates to think that it’s like a bubble is popping, but that’s how Dan feels, the sounds of the outside world suddenly surrounding them and reminding them that they’re not, infact, alone. 

Phil is the first to break the eye contact, releasing a quiet sigh and raising one hand to run it through his hair. “We should, uh -”

“Yeah.”

They walk down the corridor without saying another word to each other. Dan’s eyes are glued to the floor, trying to focus all of his attention on the different shades of greys in the marble looking floor. He’s torn, feeling like he has to fill the silence with something, anything that will maybe distract Phil enough to stop him from thinking about what happened in the elevator.

But what  _ did  _ happen? Dan wants to tell himself  _ nothing _ , but he knows better, knows  _ himself _ better - and he thinks he knows Phil better as well. There was a shift between them, subtle yet real, and Dan isn’t sure whose fault it was - because it’s a mistake, isn’t it? 

It’s only when he feels a hand grab at him, that he stops walking, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s surprised he isn’t dizzy from how quickly he raises his head. He can feel his own eyes widening as he realizes that Phil’s hand is clasped tight around his arm, and his eyes look just as wide, even a bit scared, like he didn’t mean to grab at him at all. 

That thought is confirmed when Phil lets him go just as quickly, fingers withdrawing as if they’re touching fire, and for a second there’s a pit of dread in Dan’s stomach. 

“Sorry, uh,” Phil sighs, bringing his fingers to his hair once again, messing it up even more. It seems to be some kind of comfort gesture for him. “Just - this is, uh, my room.”

It is, indeed, only a few doors away from Dan. He was ecstatic at first when Phil told him they would each have their own room, the whole trip paid in all its essentials by Mulién; now, though, after the couple of days spent in Milan just the two of them, and particularly after the weird night they had just had, Dan wants nothing more than to demolish all walls between him and Phil, both physical and not. 

He wants no room between them, no space, no boundaries.

And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

“Okay, yes, right.” He’s rambling, he knows he is, knows he probably looks and sounds ridiculous. “So, uh, good night? I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He watches as Phil purses his lips slightly, a small frown appearing in between his brows, and then his hand is closing around his arm once again, lightly pulling him into a hug.

Dan can feel his heart fluttering relentlessly, threatening to beat out of his own chest. He has to close his eyes to try and slow it down, but it only makes it more intense, the feeling of Phil’s arms and the now faint smell of his cologne surrounding him. 

He barely holds in the whimper that is threatening to escape him as he feels the warmth of Phil’s breath close to his ear, the tickle of it as he whispers, “good night, Dan.” Before he registers it, Phil’s arms aren’t wrapped around him anymore, and the man is giving him a hesitant smile, walking into his room without giving him a chance to say a word.

It’s only once he’s back in the safety of his room that Dan feels the daze disappear, the last hour of the evening catching up to him. He sighs loudly as he leans on the door frame, tilting his head backwards to look at the ceiling. He can’t believe how stupid he’s being, how far he’s letting this silly crush go. He knows better than this. His whole body feels like it’s tingling, electricity running through him to linger on every inch of skin that Phil’s fingers have touched.

_ This needs to stop _ , he tells himself bitterly as he takes off his clothes and gets himself ready for bed, ignoring the tiny voice inside of him that wonders what would have happened if the elevator doors hadn’t opened just then, if Phil had closed the distance between them, if Dan had reciprocated the hug and turned it into something else, something  _ more _ .

Dan doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to let himself hope. He needs to move on, before it’s too late.


	4. Chapter 4

The restaurant is too fancy.

Dan isn’t used to the amount of silverware next to his plate, he can feel his hands sweat as he wonders if he’s picked the right fork to eat his salad with. It’s a stupid thought to have, particularly during a date, but he can’t help thinking that the waiter is gonna come back and scold him for not knowing how to eat properly.

Phil is probably used to this kind of place, probably eats somewhere this fancy all the time while he’s abroad for conferences or business meetings; he probably never feels out of place, with the amount of crisp shirts he seems to have in his closet, the way they look on his broad shoulders and the gentle smile he wears on his face, always reaching his eyes.

Stupid smile, stupid eyes, stupid Phil. Stupid Dan for not being able to resist his charm, for thinking about him even when a gorgeous man is seated right in front of him, pretending to enjoy his meal and not care about how weird Dan is acting, how downright rude for checking his phone every five minutes, hoping for a message from the very man he shouldn’t think of. It’s hopeless and pathetic and Dan wishes he didn’t care, wishes he could focus on having a good time so that he can ignore the more and more inappropriate dreams surrounding his kind-of-boss.  

But Chris is perfectly nice - not as tall as Dan but wider in the shoulders, a wide smile and two warm amber eyes. There's the beginning of a beard surrounding his chin, the kind of length that Dan still dreams about growing, enough to be seen by other people but not long enough that it requires any kind of special care. It maybe looks a bit hipster, especially coupled with the kind of tapered at the angle jeans that Chris is wearing, not that different from Dan's own, but he pulls the look off quite nicely.

Really, he seems to have a lot in common with Dan, which is why they struck up a conversation to begin with, that higher than average match percentage on OkCupid. Truthfully, Dan had just been mindlessly scrolling, a glass of red wine in his hand during a lonely Friday night, the sound of Phil's voice still echoing in his ears after they had recently hung up.

He had been bored, and lonely and thinking way too hard about his boss - now surprisingly turned friend - and he had wanted nothing more than to forget. Forget about the stupid eyes, the slightly imperfect smile, the wide shoulders that Dan dreamed about holding onto as they rolled in bed, responsibilities and boundaries thrown out the window.

Chris was nothing like Phil, not a single inch of him reminding Dan of his very current obsession - and more than that, Chris was kind and funny and cute, all things that Dan should be attracted to.  

Except Chris isn't the problem, Dan is. Or rather, the problem is how he can’t stop thinking about another pair of eyes staring at him, how he can’t stop wishing someone else was seated in front of him, hair a different shade of black.

It’s pointless, he’s aware of it - yet he cannot help himself when his mind wanders, when he lets himself fantasize about what it would feel like if Phil was the one Dan was sharing the evening with. He wants to believe that Chris doesn’t notice, but his lips are pressed in a tight smile and he keeps looking down at his plate nervously.  

Dan hates himself for it, more than a little bit. Here he is, having a delicious meal with a good looking man that is _definitely_ interested in him - and Dan isn’t able to give him the attention he deserves.

“We can leave, if you want.”

The knife he’s holding mid-air loudly hits the surface of the plate as Dan’s thoughts are abruptly interrupted by Chris’s voice, making its way through the fogginess of his mind.  

“What?” He asks, without really meaning to, knowing he probably looks like an idiot, fork still in his hand as he stares at the man in front of him.

Chris is frowning, food almost gone and hands placed on the table, clearly done. “You obviously don’t want to be here.”  

Dan wishes he could pretend that he doesn’t notice just how uncomfortable Chris looks, how upset. There had been obvious excitement written all over his face when they first met, sharing an awkward hug outside the restaurant. There had been warmth all over Chris’s face as he looked Dan over, the rosy colour on his cheeks caused by more than the biting cold air of the first days of March.  

What a contrast with the way he looks now, eyes dull with the shadow of disappointment.

He tries, he really does, to ignore the feeling of uneasiness that starts spreading in his chest like a poisonous wave. He shouldn’t have come, should have never accepted Chris’s invite. What was he thinking? Who was he trying to convince, that he could enjoy himself, that he could pretend his mind isn’t stuck on someone else?

Dan opens his mouth to deny, to tell him that no, actually, he _is_ interested, and that he will stop moping about another man, _please believe me_.  Instead, the reply that comes out is “I’m so sorry." 

Chris gives him a sad half smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifting before they drop. Dan places his cutlery down on the plate, next to the almost untouched food, not even pretending like he’s hungry anymore.

They leave the restaurant not even two hours into the date, a meek objection on Chris’s lips as Dan insists on paying for the food that he had, at least, consumed. It’s the least he can do, really, the smallest of apologies for wasting the time of yet another person that is simply unaware of just how unavailable Dan’s heart currently is.

Louise seems to be endlessly amused by his newfound bad luck when it comes to dating. For the past two and a half weeks she’s spent half of their lunch breaks with Dan’s phone in her hands, scrolling through countless profiles and commenting on every single one that she deemed interesting, trying to find Dan the perfect match.  

It wouldn’t be this bad, Dan thinks, if it wasn’t for Kevin and Sarah joining in, and even staging polls about whether or not Dan should message the random daily pick. He tries to stop them, to no avail, resorting to hiding his blushing face in his hands and trying to ignore the comments being thrown around him.  

“How about him, then? Look at that hair, it’s perfect!” 

Dan groans as his phone is forcibly shoved under his face, uncaring of how hard he’s pressing it in between his crossed arms and the table. “Louise, _please_. It’s only been two days since the last date-” 

Louise tuts at him in that way that she does - the way that sounds like Dan is being ridiculous, like he can’t possibly think that she’s going to listen to him. Dan knows this, and usually loves her for it, but he’s starting to feel the beginning of a headache pressing at the back of his head.

“That barely counts, you need to -”

“Dan? Oh, uh.”

The chatter in the room seems to quieten down. Dan almost hurts his neck in his haste to raise his head, his eyes wide as he looks over to Phil, takes in the startled expression on his face, the way he seems to almost flinch backwards when several pairs of eyes focus on him.   

He’s flustered, Dan can tell, cheeks going rosy with the unwanted attention. It suits him, Dan thinks, it compliments the pale pink sweater he’s wearing that makes the blue in his eyes pop just a little bit more, just enough to catch the natural light coming in through the windows and stealing Dan’s breath. “Sorry, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt-” 

“Phil! Come sit with us, we’re trying to find Dan a boyfriend!”

“Louise!” 

Dan can feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment, wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him so that he doesn't have to see the way Phil shifts his gaze on him for just a moment, not long enough that Dan can read the expression hidden behind his eyes, but long enough that he feels exposed. 

“Oh, that’s - uh,” Phil clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable for just a second, then plasters a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, I just need Dan for a few minutes, there’s some things we need to sort out.” 

Phil isn’t really asking him, Dan notices. It’s not a surprise, he reasons, Phil probably knows he won’t say no. It shouldn’t send a thrill of danger down his spine, shouldn’t make his skin prickle, the idea that Phil understands the way Dan feels but it does.  

He’s standing up before he even realizes it, his eyes solely on Phil. He doesn’t want to see the look on Louise’s face, can still remember the inquisitive look she had send him at the Christmas party, when he and Phil had joined the others only after PJ had gone looking for them, finding them giggling in Phil’s kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Uh.” 

They’ve barely left the cafeteria when Phil’s eyes focus on Dan’s lips, blue deep and warm and giving him the same look that Dan hasn’t stopped thinking about since the elevator in Milan. “You’ve got-” Phil starts, and then his thumb is swiping delicately at the corner of his bottom lip, a touch that barely lasts a second but is enough to make Dan’s knees buckle.  

Dan can’t help but let out a broken “oh,” the sound nothing more than a gasp almost punched out of his throat. They’re so close he can almost feel Phil’s body heat, can smell the spicy undernotes of his cologne. He feels dizzy, the knowledge that they’re still close enough that anyone in the cafeteria could see them. Could wonder. Could read the look of desperate want in Dan’s eyes, the way he licks his bottom lip the moment Phil takes his finger away, as if to trace the lingering taste of his skin. 

Phil is transfixed for a moment, pupils wide and breath hitched, before he seemingly snaps out of it, jumping slightly, a small shake of his head as if to get rid of whatever thoughts are crowding his brain. 

“I - sorry. Sorry for, uh. You know.” 

Dan doesn’t, doesn’t know anything about what’s happening between them, but he’ll pretend, for Phil. “It’s fine, It’s... “ He clears his throat, feeling like he needs to grab the words from inside himself, swimming through everything else he wants to say, but can’t. “You needed something?.” 

There’s a faint blush on Phil’s cheeks before he starts moving again, walking quickly towards the office area that holds the marketing department. “Yeah, uh, it’s something quick, I promise. Just a small thing on the next phase deadline before I send the whole thing to Accounting, it won’t take long. Sorry for interrupting your lunch break.”

Dan walks slightly behind him, forcing himself to look at the ground and not at the way Phil’s shoulders look. “Don’t worry, I was mostly done anyway.” 

“Still, it’s your free time, but I figured we better have everything in check before my trip.” 

He almost trips at Phil’s words, stumbling through the glass doors of the office without any grace. He feels winded when he turns to look at him, to ask “you’re leaving?” in a breathless way, unable to hide the slight whine in his voice.  

On his part, Phil looks almost sad, as if it pains him to even talk about it. “I - yeah. On Thursday.” 

“Oh.”  

“Yeah. For, uh, three weeks.” 

“ _Oh._ ”  

There’s silence, the two of them so focused on each other that Dan thinks an earthquake could happen and he would barely notice. There are words stuck in his throat, once again, words that want to escape, desires that he wants to confess, feelings that he’s all but given up trying to bury deep inside. There are words, so many, and they’re all about Phil. 

Phil, who is the one taking a step back, always, turning to give Dan his back and sighing as if doing so is taking all of his willpower.  

“Anyway, it won’t take much and then you can go back to, uh, your - your boyfriend or-” 

The word _boyfriend_ , coming out of Phil’s mouth, is enough to make Dan feel like he’s being drenched in freezing cold water. It’s suddenly important that Phil knows that Dan doesn’t want that, isn’t looking for it - even though he is, or at least he’s pretending like he is, swiping through countless profiles of pretty strangers without being interested in any of them. 

“What? No. No, it’s just - Louise, she’s, she’s a big gossip, you know. Drama queens, her and Kevin.” He’s babbling, words rushing out and toppling all over each other, vowels and consonants mixing up. “Not that I’m, you know. Against the idea. Just - haven’t found the right person.” 

Phil is looking at him, a sad half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Dan wants to push at it until it’s a full smile, the one that he’s gotten used to seeing when Phil is talking to him. “I’m sure you will.” 

 _I don’t want to,_ Dan doesn’t say. Instead, a simple “right,” is the only answer he can give, half hearted, something that he says only because he can’t stand the idea of not saying anything back.  

The sad half smile is still on Phil’s face as he turns to face the whiteboard on the wall where he takes trace of the projects deadline. “So, for the photoshoot, I was thinking to schedule it on the 28th-”

Dan takes his place next to him, watches the delicate way Phil holds the sharpie in between his fingers, and tries hard not to wonder how he’s going to spend the next three weeks without seeing him, when he’s started to occupy every single part of Dan’s brain. 

\-- 

“Did you always want to be a designer?” 

Dan blinks at the monitor, the question taking him by surprise. The lighting in Phil’s hotel room isn’t good enough to read his expression, but he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway, since Phil isn’t really looking at him, head bowed down to focus on the folder on his bed, going over the notes for his speech the following day. 

It’s happened a lot lately, these Skype calls where they talk very little about the project and very much about everything else, almost like they’re two friends catching up with each other. Dan loves it, can’t pretend otherwise, he always finds himself falling asleep a little bit easier after he’s spent the evening with Phil’s voice filling his ears, recounting one of his many weird encounters during the first round of conferences. 

“I - guess?” His reply probably sounds more like a question itself, Dan knows, unsure of how much exactly to say, unsure why Phil is asking in the first place. “I mean, I always wanted to create and I was good at art when I was in school - but then I liked computers as well, I mean, I’m a child of the 90s after all -” 

Phil makes listening noises, low and close enough to the microphone that it’s almost like he’s in Dan’s living room.  

“My dad wasn’t thrilled at first, you know, he wanted me to go into law or something like, properly academic like that, but I did one year of it and I hated it, so I decided to switch to Graphic Design.”

He finds himself looking into blue eyes then, Phil raising his head to look back at him, nodding. “Yeah, I get that. My dad wasn’t exactly happy with my choice either, but he came around in the end.” 

Dan knows he has a surprised look on his face, but he can’t help the disbelief that follows Phil’s sentence. “What? But you do Marketing. That’s like, a proper career choice.” 

He can tell that Phil is rolling his eyes when he says, “not for my dad, he did Finance at university, then managed to start his own business when he was my age.” 

Dan doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to say anything wrong when it seems they’ve stumbled upon a touchy subject.  He weighs his next words carefully, as if he’s talking to a deer in highlights. “Is that why you’re so focused on becoming a member of the Board? To prove something to your dad?” 

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, and Dan almost wishes he hadn’t said it. He continues, on the off chance that he can fix whatever mistake he’s just made, “because that’s why I applied for a corporate job, you know? To prove to my parents that even playing with photoshop can be a real job.” 

“It is a real job, and you’re good at it. Like, seriously .” 

A smile stretches on Dan’s lips, impossible to hide after the genuine compliment that Phil has just given him. “Still trying to compensate for almost refusing to work with me, at first?” 

“Oh stop, we’ve been over this! You know I think you’re good, you wouldn’t have survived as a freelancer in London otherwise.” 

“It might just be luck.” 

The look on Phil’s face is soft, a gentle crinkle at the corner of his eyes that Dan doesn’t want to ever stop looking at. “I don’t believe that and I don’t think you believe it either. You’re good.” 

Phil resumes talking after that, launching himself into a detailed recounting of a particularly stressful meeting he’d had that morning, something involving spilled coffee and hiding in the bathroom to avoid confrontation, but Dan isn’t listening anymore. He’s trying to tell his traitorous heart to stop beating as fast, tells himself that the compliments and the small details that help him better understand Philshouldn’t mean anything - and yet, it’s another piece, another drop in the bucket of his feelings for Phil that are about to overspill.  

\-- 

PJ is distracted. 

Dan would never tell him out loud, unless prompted, but he can see it in the shadows on his face and the unfocused look in his eyes as he goes over the mockups that Dan keeps presenting him every couple of weeks, along with updates on the other small tasks that he’s still doing for him.

“Are you okay?” Dan asks when he sees him look over the same design for the third time, placing the paper on the desk then picking it back up again, as if he can’t decided whether he’s looked at it enough or not.   

“Yeah,” PJ nods, not looking at him, holding the paper a few inches away from his face, almost smushing it against his crooked glasses. “Just tired.”

“You need a vacation,” Dan jokes, trying to lighten the mood - although he isn’t sure if it’s needed or not. He frowns when he notices the unamused look on PJ’s face. “Or not? I didn’t mean that - like, you look tired but not bad, you can take a vacation whenever you want obviously, I wasn’t suggesting-”

PJ raises a hand in the air, a clear stop gesture. “Did I ever tell you that speaking to you makes me feel physically tired, sometimes?” 

Dan immediately shuts his mouth then, almost wishes he could never speak again. “Sorry.” 

PJ sighs, finally releasing his grip on the designs that he had been looking at for the past fifteen minutes. “Not, like, in a bad way. It’s just - sometimes I feel like you overthink too much.” 

“Well, yeah. Sometimes.” All of the time, if Dan is being honest. “But really though, are you okay? You seem...” 

A smile tugs at PJ’s lips then, a gentle look taking over his features. “I’m fine, just - a lot of stuff to do, you know what I mean? There’s always new projects to work on, and like, I can do it, but practical work isn’t my best skill. I’m good at the ideas, at the planning phase of it.” 

Dan finds himself nodding at PJ’s words without even realizing. It’s true, PJ is good at what he does, his design work is always good, but it always feel like he can’t quite translate the ideas he has in his mind to real life. It’s the opposite, for Dan. He needs the paper - or the photoshop canvas - to give perspective to the neverending whirlwind going on inside his brain, almost like the moment he puts the pencil in his hand he’s able to channel all of it and give it an actual shape that deserves to be seen.  

“I think it’s harder to come up with the right vision than to actually make it,” he suggests, gently, because PJ deserves it. 

“Well, that’s what I used to tell myself anyway. It’s not like I could do anything else, really, even when I’m trying not to make art I’m always doodling around in my notes to help me memorize information more easily” 

Dan nods, because that’s familiar, he can remember the days where his school notebooks were filled to the brim with obscure designs that he would never show anyone, not that his current notebooks are any better - he just uses digital notes a lot more, these days. 

“I understand. I don’t think I could see myself doing anything else, really.” 

PJ tilts his head as he looks at him, the way he always does when he looks at Dan, as if he’s constantly trying to understand him.  

“You and Phil are very similar in that way, you know?” 

“Are we? Really?” Dan asks before he can talk himself out of it - before he feels bashful about it as usual, trying and deflecting just how curious he is;  it might be just a little bit too late to hide the eager look in his eyes, anyway. 

“Yeah. I’m glad about it, actually. At least I know -” 

Dan waits for PJ to finish the sentence, to explain exactly what he means, but it’s clear after a few seconds of silence that he’s not going to.  

It leaves Dan wondering about all the ways that they’re similar, he and Phil, as always seems to happen lately, as if he needed to daydream about it even more, all the ways Phil would be absolutely perfect for him - and just how sad it is, that he will never have him.

\--

By the time Dan is finally home, he wants nothing more than to sit down on the sofa with his laptop perched on his legs, uncaring of the nice suit shirt that is surely getting wrinkled with the way he's sprawled out. He can't bring himself to care, though, not right now when it's past 10pm and he has 3 missed calls from Phil.

He worries at his lip as he ponders what to do, fingers drumming on his laptop in an attempt to drown out the loudness of his own mind. He shouldn’t call him back, he knows it; it doesn't matter how close they’ve gotten in the last couple of months or how often their Skype chats turn into pointless chatter rather than work meetings. He can pretend as much as he wants to but in the end, he knows what he really feels and he reckons that calling Phil on a Friday night doesn't count as _work_ , doesn't leave any other interpretation but the reality of his inconvenient crush. 

 _What is wrong with me?_ , he asks himself as he tilts his head back against the couch, eyes focusing on the off white of the ceiling. He should be thinking about the date, about how it felt to be courted and ogled all night, knowing that the ball was in his court; he would do that, if he was someone else, someone normal, someone that wasn't _pining_ after a man that he works for, a man that isn’t really his boss but might as well be.

And it doesn't matter, really, that his traitorous brain keeps reminding him of the doubts he's been having since their trip to Milan, the thought that Phil might feel something for him as well.

Dan's stomach drops whenever he entertains the idea, and it's stupid, really. He needs to get a grip on reality, he decides, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He’s not only going to remind himself exactly what his relationship with Phil is, but he's also going to prove to himself that he's better than this - that he can be a professional adult with a crush that doesn't have to ruin everything he's been working for. 

He takes another minute to stare at the Skype window still open on the screen before his fingers move quickly on the keyboard, typing out message after message and deleting every single one of them.

 **Daniel Howell -  10.18pm**  
~~_Phil_~~  
~~_why would you call_~~  
~~_are you still there_~~  
~~_I was thinking about y_~~

He's frustrated with himself. This shouldn't be this hard, Phil is the one that called him on a Friday night when they had no plans to discuss anything, Dan is only being nice and messaging him back. So why does he feel like he’s doing something wrong, something _prohibited_? It doesn’t make sense. He and Phil have talked for months now, about work and everything else. It has never been a problem for Phil, Dan knows it.  

He’s being daft, Dan decides as he finally takes a steadying breath and texts Phil.  

 **Daniel Howell -  10.23pm**  
_heyyy sorry I was out_  
_do you still need me?_

It’s only a couple of minutes before Phil replies, a simple _Yeah_ and then his laptop is ringing with an incoming Skype call.  

He takes a brief glance at the screen, trying to decide whether he looks presentable or not. It's pointless, he knows it is - he was out not even half an hour ago, he had tried to dress up nicely, he _knows_ he looks good. But this is Phil he's about to Skype, the same Phil that he hasn't heard from for the past four days, and even then it was over email. 

Turns out that Dan isn't particularly good at reminding himself that his conversation with Phil shouldn't feel special, and even then the last remnants of his resolve crumble the moment Phil's face shows up on his screen. 

He's gorgeous, he always is, but there's something about talking to him like this, face brightened by the artificial light of the Skype window, close enough to the screen that Dan finds it difficult to not stare at him, that makes Phil look even better than usual.  

Phil is reclined on a giant bed with his head propped on a plush looking headboard, hair mussed up like he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly. He's wearing the black rimmed glasses that Dan likes so much, slightly crooked on his nose, and it makes a surge of warmth rise inside Dan's chest, the idea that maybe Phil was so eager to call him that he didn't even check his appearance. 

“Dan!” Is how Phil greets him, face lighting up visibly the moment the call connects properly. It's addicting, watching him look so happy just a tseeing a pixelated Dan on his screen.

“Hey Phil,” he says back, and he hopes the quality of his camera isn't good enough to pick up the way his cheeks burn with the knowledge of how deep his voice has gone, how hoarse. He coughs to try and smooth over the moment. “You seem cozy over there.” 

“I'm so _bored_ ,” Phil says, voice properly verging on whining now, head tilting back to rest it on the massive headboard behind him. “I’ve heard nothing but investment funds this _entire_ time, and I want to - uh. To.. Like -”

It's clear from the adorable frown showing up in between Phil's brows that he's struggling to find the right words. There's a rosy shade on his cheeks, and Dan knows the slightly unfocused look in his eyes, the way he moves his hands around, restless. He's seen it before.

“Did you - Phil! Are you drunk?”

Phil widens his eyes in mock innocence, opens his mouth slightly to let out a fake gasp. “Oh, no,” he says, vowels trailing off and confirming Dan's doubt. “Just - just tipsy?”

Dan huffs, a smile threatening to show up on his face. “How many drinks tipsy?” 

Phil's tongue pokes out in between his teeth, and Dan can't help himself from leaning more towards the screen, trying to memorize the grin that is sent his way. “I can't remember.”

“Phil,” Dan says, shaking his head in mock disapproval, “I can't believe you.” 

“It was so boring! I needed to make it fun again.” There's a lovely pout on Phil's face as the words leave his mouth, lips puckered out, shiny and full. Dan is transfixed by them.

There's a few moments of silence, then, the two of them looking at each other without uttering a word. Dan is starting to feel self conscious, when Phil speaks up again, his voice suddenly a bit lower, a bit steadier.

"That colour looks really good on you.”

Dan looks down at his dark purple shirt to try and hide the blush creeping on his face. “I, uh - thank you,” he mumbles out, unsure of what else to say.

When he raises his gaze to Phil once again, he finds him staring straight at Dan, every trace of amusement gone from his face. His eyes are endless pools of blue, deep and beautiful, and Dan could probably spend the entire night just looking at them without getting tired.  

“Phil?” He presses on when a few seconds have passed and neither of them have uttered a word. His own gaze is transfixed on Phil’s face, the way he’s watching Dan, the subtle licking of his bottom lip that makes Dan’s breath hitch.

“You just -” Phil starts, eyes flying all over Dan’s face as if he isn’t able to focus on one single thing. “You - uh. You were out, you said?” 

There’s something, some kind of hidden meaning behind Phil’s voice that Dan isn’t able to identify. Phil’s head is tilted to the side, as if studying Dan intensely, trying to decipher some kind of mystery.

“Yeah, uh, I got in right before I texted you.” He curses himself at that, almost says it out loud. How stupid of him, Dan thinks, to let Phil know exactly how eager he was to talk to him, to see him, even through a Skype chat.  

“Right,” is the one reply to that, before Phil adds, “with work people?” 

“No, with - uh. A friend.”

“Oh.”

Dan can’t exactly tell, because Phil’s gaze is still glossed over by the alcohol in his body, but he thinks the edge in Phil’s voice that he heard might have been jealousy. He hates himself for even thinking it, for entertaining the idea that Phil might care that much about what Dan does - or rather _who_ , his brain helplessly supplies.

He starts speaking again, if only to take his mind off that traitorous thought that is now consuming him from the inside, starts asking, “so, what did you want -” but he’s interrupted by a change of visuals on his monitor, Phil leaning closer to the screen.

“Is that why you look like _that?_ ”

“Like - like what?”

“Like _that_ , so dressed up and gorgeous, like you were on a date.” There’s a clear hint of disgust at the word date, Phil grimacing as he says it. “Were you?”

It’s so sudden, so out of the blue, that Dan can do nothing but blink and say the truth. “I - yes.”

Phil makes a pained sound, as if that simple word is a wound right to his chest. He closes his eyes, inhales heavily, and Dan wants nothing more than to take it back, say to Phil _no, actually, it wasn’t, it didn’t mean anything._

“I hate it.”

“Phil…”

“I wish it was me.”

Dan sucks in a breath at Phil’s words - barely louder than a whisper and yet loud enough to resonate in Dan’s brain for the next couple of days, he’s sure of it. “You can’t say that.”

“I don’t care. No, I mean - I do, I do care, I care about you, so much, I think about you all the time -”

“You’re drunk, you don’t -”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, _dreaming_ about you.”

Dan feels powerless when it comes to those words, to the meaning behind them, the look Phil is giving him from the other side of the camera - eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open slightly so, so far away. Dan’s reply leaves his mouth in a gasp, a breathed out, “tell me about it.” 

There’s a moment of silence then, neither of them uttering a word, simply staring into each other’s eyes. It feels, to Dan, like there’s crackling tension between them, like this is a crucial moment - like whatever happens next, whatever is said next, will change things moving forward. It’s charged, and he can feel goosebumps on his skin, like there’s electricity running underneath it. 

It feels like hours have passed before Phil raises his fingers - delicate looking, trembling slightly - to the collar of his shirt, fumbling with the first buttons.  “I dream about you - in my house, in my bed -”

Dan’s eyes are glued to the screen, following the slightly uncoordinated journey of Phil’s fingers, his ears ringing with each word he says. His mouth is dry and he feels like the air is being knocked out of his lungs as he watches the pale skin being revealed, his own fingers twisting in his lap, feeling an overwhelming need to do something with them, body already buzzing with adrenaline - and fear.

“I dream about you every night” Phil says, voice like gravel and eyes dark, fingers long and delicate as they finish unbutton his shirt, the material slipping off his shoulders to reveal the smooth skin underneath. “Kissing you. Touching you.”

Phil is beautiful, there’s no other word to describe him. His words ignite sparks in Dan’s chest, make his heart beat fast, faster than it ever has. He wants nothing more than to give Phil exactly what he’s been dreaming about, what Dan himself has been dreaming of, for months now.  

He doesn’t want him far away, on a computer screen - Dan wants to have him here, to touch his broad shoulders and run his hands down his chest until he can reach his nipples, test just how sensitive they are. He looks at the wispy hairs on Phil’s chest and has a visceral image of leaving a wet trail of kisses down it, following the dark line of hair that dips under Phil’s trousers. 

That mental image is a lot. He gasps, “Phil-” not really knowing what he wants to say, Phil’s name the only coherent thought in his mind. He feels as drunk as Phil is. 

Phil is watching him, honesty in his eyes and hunger all over his face, his hands barely showing on camera, sitting on his abdomen. “I want you so bad. Hate that you went on a date. Should’ve been me.”

There’s no other option for Dan but to reply, “I wanted him to be you.”

“Did you kiss him? Did you -”

“No, no. I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Another charged moment of silence, another moment of Dan feeling like he can’t breathe, before Phil speaks again. “Dan,” he says, voice low, pushing himself slightly upwards so that he’s resting with his back more securely against the headboard. “Let me see you.”

 _This is a mistake_ , a voice in Dan’s brain helplessly supplies - but Phil’s voice is almost pleading, and one of his hands is right next to his collarbone, seemingly caressing it lightly, and Dan’s eyes are trained on it. There’s so much lust and hunger on Phil’s face, and Dan has never felt like this - so wanted, so _desired_. It’s an almost addicting feeling, and he wants more of this, wants to do anything in his power so that Phil will keep looking at him like that.

So he does, brings his own fingers to his shirt and starts unbuttoning it - the top button is already loose, because Dan isn’t necessarily vain but he also knows how to make himself look alluring, how to play to his own strengths when it comes to enticing someone.

He feels a shiver run down his spine at every inch of skin that is revealed, but he isn’t sure whether it’s because of the cold air hitting his now exposed chest, or if it’s because of the way Phil’s gaze on him feels.

“God, you’re - gorgeous, so gorgeous.” Phil sounds almost reverent, bringing a hand to his hair to pull lightly at it, as if the sight of Dan, now shirtless, is driving him crazy.

Dan knows how it feels, honestly, he can barely stand to stay there, his fingers itching to do something, anything, touch himself possibly. But he wants to do that with Phil’s voice in his ears, guiding him through it.

“Tell me more, tell me about your dreams, tell me _everything_ ,” he begs, raising his own hands to his neck and down his chest, avoiding his nipples out of fear of turning himself on too quickly. The touch is enough to make him gasp out slightly, his neck sensitive, his skin on fire due to how dangerous and exciting the situation feels.

Phil raises his eyes from the inch of skin on Dan’s neck, looking at him through his eyelashes. “Can I show you?” He asks, but his fingers are at his belt before Dan can say anything. He seems to give him a couple of seconds to stop him, to say no, this isn’t actually what he wants - as if Dan would ever say that, as if his mouth isn’t watering at the millions of mental pictures his brain is providing him with. 

And then, all of a sudden, Phil is unbuckling his belt, not looking at Dan as he does so - which Dan is grateful for because he can only imagine how flushed he must look right now. He’s sure there’s a noise stuck in his throat, something between a squeak and a gasp, but there’s no time for him to release it, not when the next thing Phil does is to tug his trousers down, a considerable bulge visible underneath.

“Oh,” is what he says, an exhale or maybe a sigh, Dan isn’t sure. “You look -”

Phil shakes his head and wiggles his hips a little more, enough that most of his bottom half is in shot, giving Dan a perfect view of his already hard cock, hidden behind dark boxers that, if it was up tor Dan, he would be ripping apart in that moment. “You -” 

Phil’s eyes are glazed over and his lips parted as he starts rubbing his hand over his still clothed cock, his gaze never shifting from Dan- who is grateful for that, can feel the look burning through his veins as his own fingers fidget with the material of his pajama pants, now tenting obscenely, his cock swelling at the sight of Phil touching himself in front of him.  

It seems like Phil is on the same train of thoughts, thankfully, because his hand stops immediately - Dan is ready to whine out loud at that, honestly - and hooks just one finger underneath the waistband of his underwear. “Dan,” he calls, and there’s something so good about the way he says his name, so inherently sexual. “Can I - wanna see you.”

“I want to see _you_ ,” Dan says, unable to stop himself. 

“It’s fine. I can show you.”

Dan knows that he’s probably staring with wide eyes and his mouth open, but he can’t help it, not when the Phil on his screen is pushing his underwear down to reveal the most gorgeous cock Dan has ever seen in his entire life. He can’t see it perfectly, the quality of his internet connection too slow to show the real thing, but he can’t help but stare at the way Phil’s hand looks as he holds it, long fingers wrapped around silky skin, leaving enough space that Dan can still clearly see the whole head of it, pink and seemingly shiny with precome.

“Christ.”

“Do you - do you like it, please, tell me you do.”

“I do, Phil, I - fuck, touch yourself for me.” 

Phil, Dan finds, follows orders without batting an eye when he’s drunk and horny, doesn’t even question Dan’s request, his hand starting to tug at his cock, painstakingly slow, as if he’s trying to drive Dan even more insane.

“Look how hard I am for you, Dan.“ Phil’s words are slurred with the alcohol and the pleasure he must feel, breath labored as he starts stroking himself, camera perfectly angle to capture the way his cock looks in his hand, almost like he’s showing Dan the weight of it. “Want you here, want to see you and touch you, god, tell me you’re hard for me too-”

Dan has watched porn before, has seen countless dicks in his lonely wanking times, but he’s never seen one that looks so inviting, so perfect as he watches it slide in and out of Phil’s fist as he finally seems to find a rhythm, can imagine tasting it, heavy and good inside his mouth slipping in and out. He wants to hold it in his hand to feel the weight of it, caress the pink tip with one finger and feel the tremble of Phil’s shiver knowing he’s the one that caused it.

He has to swallow before he can reply, words stuck in his throat as he moves back a little bit, enough for his bottom half to be in frame as he takes his cock out of his pants, the cool air making him shiver. He bites his lip when he finally, _finally_ , gets a hand around himself. “I’m hard too, Phil,” he murmurs, the words barely higher than a whisper.

“Wait,” Phil says suddenly, his own hand stopping its movements, and for a moment Dan’s heart skips a beat.

“W-wha-”

“Don’t touch yourself yet.” Phil is looking at him with something that can only be described as veneration, leaning even more towards the screen, eyes wide and dark as they seem to scan every inch of his slightly grainy picture.  “Please, I just - wanna look at you.”

He feels exposed, more than he’s ever felt in his entire life, half naked on his couch, cock out for someone that could very well fire him the following week. It feels dangerous, and he’s almost ashamed at the way his cock twitches at the idea of being so reckless.

It doesn’t matter, though; there is nothing he can do but let Phil look at him, fighting the urge to follow his lead and wank. Phil is close enough to his laptop that Dan can hear the wet sound of skin sliding against skin, and it’s almost dirtier than watching it happen.

“You’re so beautiful,” Phil groans after what feels like forever, managing to sound reverent even as he increases the pace of his wanking, cock positively shining with pre-come and the artificial light coming from his laptop. “God, the things I want to do to you…" 

Dan feels the flush on his cheeks darken. He’s so turned on he wants nothing more than to jack off, but he knows that it would probably take him only a couple of strokes before he comes, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to watch Phil fall apart first, wants to hear all the wonderful things he’s imagining doing, with Dan and _to_ Dan, wants to come with the picture of Phil’s come leaking through his fingers and wondering what they would feel like inside of him, filling him with only his release as lube.  

“Tell me,” he demands, giving in and starting to stroke himself, a thrill of satisfaction at the way Phil’s eyes seem to focus on the way his wrist moves, before following suit, starting to wank himself again.

Phil’s eyes seem to change color with each stroke, or at least that’s what it looks like to Dan. His own wrist moves steadily and fast on his own cock, giving in to the building need of chasing the pleasure despite the desire to wait for Phil to come first, the desire to watch him fall apart the way he’s imagined for the past months, the image simply a dream created by his brain.

He can’t believe he’s watching it happen in real life, right from his sofa.

“I want to touch you everywhere, want to have your hands on me, your mouth - I bet you’re so good at it.”

“I am. I could make you feel so good”

“Dan -” Phil gasps out, the pace of his strokes increasing and going out of rhythm, little sounds punched out of his throat that makes Dan’s heartbeat quicken as well as his own stroking.  “I’m -”

Phil comes with a loud grunt, almost folding into himself as he does, eyes closing in pleasure. The sight of it is overwhelming, something so beautiful and dirty and unbelievable that it steals Dan’s breath away, makes him dizzy with the impossibility of it.

Dan knows he’s loud when he comes, Phil’s name a moan on his lips that he suddenly wants to scream so that everyone know who is responsible for the pleasure of the orgasm burning through his body. There’s the familiar buzz of pleasure on his skin as he breathes deeply.

“Wow,” he chokes out, still trying to regain his breath, the beginning of languid sleepiness pulling at his bones. “That was -”

“Fuck.”

It’s not that word but rather the tone in which it’s said that makes Dan frown and refocus on the screen, where he can see a now half naked Phil scrambling on the bed, pants back on his body and one hand wiping furiously at his chest, cleaning off the come. His hair is wild and his eyes are wide, but he’s cursing under his breath, looking mildly panicked. 

"Phil?”

Phil freezes as Dan calls his name, but doesn’t fully look at him, keeping his gaze low and focused on the bottom of the screen, where his own video must be. “I didn’t - I shouldn’t - I’m sorry.” 

And then he’s gone, the familiar “ _Call disconnecting”_ frame loading on Dan’s screen as Phil ends the call. It’s so sudden and so unexpected that, for a second, Dan is left there, still completely naked, eyes staring at the now white Skype window where Phil’s profile has just gone offline. 

There’s so many emotions running through him in that very moment, so many different thoughts. He stares at his laptop without blinking, not really knowing what to do, before he turns it off, closing the lid.  

It takes Dan a long time before he finds the energy needed to clean himself up and get ready for bed, trying hard not to think of the worst, pushing down the feeling of humiliation that is starting to build up inside of him. 

\-- 

It takes hours for Dan to fall asleep - which isn’t necessarily unusual, he often finds himself on his back, looking at the ceiling, ears focused on the sounds of London coming from outside his windows, willing himself into a sleep that doesn’t easily come. This time, however, it’s different. He tosses and turns, the remaining buzz of his orgasm still quietly sizzling under his skin. 

He finally falls asleep with the first lights of dawn starting to peek through the curtains, and he wakes up with the sun high in the sky, the morning fully morphed into the afternoon. The first thing he does is check his phone, his heart beating fast as he notices text upon text from Phil, all sent during the first hours of the morning.  

 **Phil - 4.54am**  
_I am so sorry_  
_Please forgive me_  
_That was a mistake I shouldn’t have done it I shouldn’t have_  
_I’m sorry_  
_You can hate me now_  
_I hope I didn’t ruin everything_

The messages are sent one after the other, as if Phil couldn’t wait to let the words out, couldn’t stop his thumbs from pressing on the keyboard and typing out his apology. It sounds panicked, something Dan only knows because he’s become accustomed to the way Phil texts and writes emails over the past months, the painstaking way he uses grammar and punctuation, as if he’s always writing a business email or a university essay. He’s made fun of Phil for it countless times, receiving in turn an eye-roll and a biting, _Well, at least people can understand what I write._  

Dan rereads the messages over and over, his eyes catching on _that was a mistake_ , a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to push down. Without even realizing, he’s calling Phil, phone glued to his ear before he can even think it through. It rings and rings, his bottom lip bitten raw as he waits for the call to connect, waits for Phil to pick up, to talk to him, to explain.

Phil doesn’t answer.

Dan looks down at his phone, his hold on it loose, as if the dark screen has some hidden explanation for what is happening. There’s a tightness in his stomach, a burning sensation that he tries to swallow down. _It’s probably fine_ , he tells himself, not wanting to give in to panic. Phil is probably still sleeping, or travelling or - something. There must be something that is preventing him from answering, Dan tells himself.

He sends Phil a message, a simple _can we talk please_ , and carries the phone with him for the entire day, jumping every time it rings, cursing his Facebook notifications or the Whatsapp group with Kevin and the others for making him think that it’s what he’s waiting for.

When it’s almost 9pm, and he’s exhausted all the excuses he can think of for why Phil isn’t replying, he sends him another message, picking at his fingernails to avoid biting his now bloody bottom lip.

 **Daniel Howell - 9.07pm**  
_I’m on skype_  
_let’s talk please_  
_I’m waiting for you_

And he does, he does wait, for hours, not even standing to go to the bathroom for fear of missing Phil’s call. As he keeps his gaze on his laptop and the painfully silent Skype window, Dan realizes that there’s no point denying that this might be the point where they’ve fucked up in ways that they won’t be able to mend, no matter how much he tries.

That idea, the idea that he’s lost whatever he had with Phil, the idea that they might never go back to how things were before, is enough to make a dry sob escape from his throat. And yet, he can’t bring himself to regret what they did the night before, no matter how wrong it might have been.

Dan simply has to hope that Phil cares enough to get out of the panic abyss he seems to have fallen into, and talk to him.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time ten days have passed, Dan has stopped pretending like Phil isn’t avoiding him.

Truth be told, Dan isn't doing much better. He'd tried to fish for information the first couple of days, subtly dropping hints to Sarah or Louise that he wanted to know when Phil would be back, but the only thing he'd gotten in return was apologetic replies and concerned glances for the way his face dropped.

He hates the way his stomach sinks every time he opens his work email, holding his breath as he skims through his inbox, half hoping and half dreading that he will see an email from Phil that will be something more than the perfunctory recap of the painstakingly slow process of delivering drafts to the client and receiving comments and opinion about every single detail, checking over and over whether the edits required are included in the contract or not.

Phil is still acting professional, at least. Not that Dan had really doubted he would, knowing how much Phil prides himself on the way he likes to be fair when it comes to the workplace - it's just that Dan remembers how things were when they first started working together, the awful certainty that Phil didn't want him anywhere near his project, and he hates feeling like they could revert to that.

He finally stands up from his desk at half past five, noticing for the first time how he's once again the only one left in his department, everyone else gone from the room without his knowledge. He wonders if he should be annoyed by the fact that at this point his co-workers barely even say goodbye to him when they leave, but he knows, deep down, that it isn't done with malice. They've gotten used to him staying after hours, usually down at the Marketing department or with his eyes glued to the monitors, focused on  finishing the tasks for the day so that he could enjoy his evening.

He feels self conscious now. Have they noticed that he is no longer eager to go home? Did they realize the haunted look that he wears every morning as he casts a glance at the doors, as if he's waiting for his punishment to arrive?

There’s no need to berate himself over it, Dan knows, but as usual with his overactive brain, he can’t help it. He shakes his head to himself, biting back the sigh that threatens to escape as he debates whether to pack up for the week and go home or stay for a little while longer. Part of him wants to go home, make a nice meal and watch the telly until his eyes are burning with exhaustion. The other part, the bigger, louder and more insecure part of himself, the one he tries hard to not let control his every action, tells him that he should stay some more, finish up the rough design he’s been working on for the past 6 hours even though he’s nowhere near the set deadline for it.

The office is mostly silent, save for a couple of workaholics still seated at their desks, zealously going over their work so that they can feel like they’ve earned their weekend.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the lights on inside Phil’s office, before his ears pick up the sound of two voices coming from it. The first thought running through his mind is to go back to his desk and pack up his stuff without making a sound louder than the steady increase of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest - yet he stays rooted to his feet, unable to shift his eyes from the way he can just barely distinguish Phil’s silhouette behind the doors of his office.

It’s like he blanks out, not a single thought running through his mind besides _Phil, Phil is here, Phil is back, Phl didn’t want to see me?_

His feet move without his control and before he knows it  he’s opening the doors he’s oh so familiar with, not even bothering to realize just how rude he is for barging into the room without knocking. He doesn’t have time to feel anxious about it right now, though, because he just has to make sure that the room really has people in it, and that one of them is Phil.

Phil, that he hasn’t spoken to in ten days. Phil, who has been ignoring him for days and probably doesn’t want to see him right now. Phil, who is seated at his desk, looking maddeningly gorgeous in a black sweater and his glasses, talking animatedly with the woman in the room and then suddenly going quiet as soon as the doors open and Dan is in front of him. It’s painful, to watch the mix of emotions going through his blue eyes - happiness, fear, surprise, but more than anything else, sadness.

Dan feels like he has been punched, all the air leaving his lungs at the sight of him quickly lowering his gaze to the desk without saying a single word.

His eyes trail over the red haired woman stood next to Phil’s desk, trying to remember what her name is. He knows her, he’s sure of it, and it would be great if his mind could focus on her and not just on the anger raising inside him, awfully combining with the humiliation that he feels when he realizes that, goddammit, Phil isn’t even looking at him. Dan wants to scream at that, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and tell him, _fucking look at me, you were begging for me to look last week, don’t hide from me._

He isn’t sure what’s gotten into him when he forces a smile onto his face before deciding to break the awkward silence in the room.  "Hey Christine," he says, the name getting to him like a flash of white in his mind, “sorry to interrupt, but if I could borrow Phil? I need some feedback on the last mockup for Monday morning.” He makes his voice sound apologetic enough that she will hopefully not pay any attention to the manic look in his eyes when he so rudely interrupted their conversation less than a minute ago.

It’s obvious that she doesn’t know what to say at first, especially when Phil doesn’t say a word, keeps his head bowed down without acknowledging either of them. Dan feels a pang of guilt for putting her on the spot like that in such a weird situation, but he‘s already taking a step towards the desk without him consciously deciding to do so, and he’s not sure if it would be better or worse if he backtracked.

She clears her throat after another moment passes, “uhm, yes, sure, we were done here anyway. Thanks for your input Phil, I’ll make sure to send you the report by next week.”

Phil nods at that, raising his head just enough to send a small smile of acknowledgment her way. “Sure, it was a pleasure. Have a great weekend.”

She glances at the two of them for just another second before clutching the folder she’s holding to her chest and walking out of the office, her shoulders clearly tensed up with the weird atmosphere in the room but relaxing as soon as she closes the doors behind her back.

Silence stretches between them for a couple of seconds, the air tense with unspoken words, the only sound the clicking of Christine’s heels as she gets further and further away from the room. Phil stays at his desk, eyes focused on the monitor but unmoving and Dan knows, he knows Phil doesn’t want him here, doesn’t want to see him or talk to him. And that, _fuck_ , that hurts more than he can say, the pain making its way from his throat to his chest, tight until it reaches his stomach.

“Dan,” is the first word that Phil says, the word barely louder than a whisper and yet the sound of it is enough to knock Dan’s breath. It’s been ten long days since he’s heard Phil say his name, and he can still remember the warmth behind it, the slight slur of the vowel as Phil moaned it over and over, fist flying over his hard cock as he wanked for him.

Dan can’t forget, isn’t sure he ever wants to. The image is forever burned behind his eyes, engraved in his mind in boiling hot marks, making his skin feverish with the mere memory of it.

It’s such a shock to hear how different Phil’s voice is when he continues talking, asking, “did you want something?” His voice is low and deep like it always is, but there’s a distinct lack of warmth to it. If he focuses enough on it, it almost sounds like it lacks any emotion - which is definitely not like Phil at all.

Phil sounds like a stranger that is none too bothered by the person trying to talk to him, and that hurts. It hurts, because Dan feels humiliated in a way that he’s never felt before, wants nothing more than to run from this office, run from this building and never come back, fuck Phil and PJ and the entire project, fuck his goals and his career. It’s not worth it, or at least it doesn’t feel like it is.

It’s not true, of course. His mind recoils with how not true that is, with how deeply he cares about working on this project with Phil, how much effort he’s put into every single detail and how much he values the results. He’s not ready to give up - and if he’s honest with himself, he’s probably not ready to give up on Phil either, even if that might be naive of him.

Dan realizes that if he wants this to work, if he wants to keep his job the way he likes it  he will have to put on his grown up pants and force Phil to talk to him, has to swallow the lump in his throat and face this ugly feeling of shame and regret swirling in his stomach at the mere sight of the man in front of him. "Oh, look at that. Your Majesty _finally_ decided to grant me his attention."

Well. It doesn’t mean he has to be mature about it.

"Why are you so angry? Did I do something?" Phil’s voice sounds cautious when he finally speaks up, the same polite coldness that Dan hasn’t heard from him since the day he first met him, when Phil was clearly bothered by his presence but didn’t want to overly show it.

It’s maddening, really,

"Are you seriously asking me that? Do you really not realize -?" Dan can feel his nostrils flaring, his eyes burning with the effort to not cry in front of Phil. " _Nothing_! That is the fucking problem Phil, you haven't done a single fucking thing! You haven't said a single word to me that wasn’t work related.”

It’s obvious that Phil isn’t expecting the outburst, his eyes widening at the tone of Dan’s voice, face pale and looking stunned. “I-”

Dan doesn’t give him enough time to gather his thoughts, adrenaline pumping through his body so quickly that it feels like it’s bursting out of him, an ocean of words laced with the hurt and the embarrassment that has been building up for days. “No, you know what, shut up. You have _no_ excuse. You’ve been avoiding me for ten days, barely replying to my messages. I didn’t even know you were back, for fuck’s sake! And then, here you are, in your office minding your own business for who knows how long and - what the hell did I do to you?"

"I didn't.. I didn’t think you -"

“What, Phil? You didn’t think it would affect me? You didn’t think it would hurt? What were you expecting when one moment you’re stripping on camera and spurring me on and the next day you disappear from the radar?”

He knows the second those words leave his mouth that it’s the wrong thing to say. Phil’s eyes widen even more, a look of pain on his face. His hand is half raised in the air, like he wants to reach out to Dan but doesn’t know how to.

“I just… I didn’t know what you were thinking. I didn’t know how you would react, I… I was scared.”

He hates hearing Phil sound so small, almost regretful. He doesn’t want him to be, doesn’t want him to think what they did was a mistake, doesn’t want to backtrack in a relationship that looked oh so promising. Dan doesn’t want him to be scared of what they could have.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I just - I don’t understand Phil. You left the skype call so suddenly and - I tried calling you -”

"Look Dan, drop it, okay? It's just... I wanted - I needed some space."

"And you couldn’t say so? You couldn’t have the decency to tell me _hey Dan, it was fun but bit too awkward, let’s forget about it, yeah?_ ”

"I can’t forget about it, you idiot!"

“Well, neither can I or I wouldn’t be here!” They’re shouting, he realizes, their voices loud enough that they’re lucky the office is basically empty or there would be no way people wouldn’t be eavesdropping left and right. “I just.. You could’ve talked to me, Phil. I wanted you to.”

He takes a step forward after those words, his voice going softer even though he doesn’t think Phil deserves it. He can’t help it though, he just can’t. He wants him so much it’s almost unbelievable.

Phil looks even more pained when he looks at him, blue eyes glistening in the dim lights of the afternoon sun. “I’m your boss.”

“You’re not, PJ is my boss.”

He shakes his head, dark hair softly falling on his forehead. Dan wants to reach out and push it back. “I’m still your superior, and I got drunk and sexually harassed you. That’s not okay, Dan. I just - I can’t even look at you right now without feeling sick.”

The remnants of Dan's anger melt away like snow basking in the sun at Phil's words, the harrowed tone of his voice enough to make him forget why he was even angry at him in the first place. He doesn't understand how Phil could even think something like that, couldn't see just how much Dan wanted it too, how much he wanted Phil.

It's suddenly important that Phil understands that, no matter what else comes out of them talking, Dan decides. He can't let him think that way any longer.

“Phil, you idiot,” he says, closing the last couple of steps that separate them, walking around the desk so that he's standing in front of Phil, looking down to take in the sight of the man - haunted blue eyes half hidden by the thick frames of the glasses, hair messed up by frantic fingers running through it, sharply dressed yet always bouncing on that damned blue ball.

Dan has never wanted someone more in his life.

Phil looks up at him with what looks like fear and hope, face open and closed off at the same time, like he's too scared to even hope. Dan can't help but place a hand on his cheek, feeling the smoothness of the skin under his palm as his thumb traces a gentle caress over the cheekbone.

He lowers his head down just enough that he can speak in a low voice, because he doesn't want to risk anyone hearing them, not for this.

“You didn't sexually harass me, please don't ever think that,” he says, looking right into Phil's eyes as if he can force him to believe him that way. “There is nothing that you did that night that I didn't want you to do. That I wouldn't want you to do again.”

Phil looks stunned as he listens to him, one arm shifting to brace himself against the sturdy desk as he wobbles precariously. His voice is short breathed as he whispers, “Dan,” helplessly, a reminder of that night over Skype, except he's right here in front of Dan, warm and solid under his fingertips.

He has to close his eyes at the sound of his name, the feeling too strong for him to endure with the piercing blue eyes looking right through him. “I wanted you to do it, I've wanted that for so long, I - I wanted to touch myself for you, too.”

Another intake of breath, another strangled “Dan" as a hand places itself on his hip, pulling him close. He opens his eyes, he has to, has to focus on something that isn't just the wild beating of his heart.

Phil is looking at him, really looking at him for what feels like the first time in days, cheeks flushed and lips parted, the sight breathtaking enough that Dan can feel his legs tremble. He barely notices how they've moved around a little bit, Phil slightly reclined on the bouncy ball and his back against the desk, legs spread open so that Dan has slotted in between them.

It should be ridiculous, shouldn't feel nearly as hot as it feels in the moment, but Dan couldn't care less - not with Phil's eyes burning through him.

“I wanted you too,” Phil says, voice hoarse as he pulls him even closer, so that their foreheads are touching, Dan's knee raising up just slightly to put his balance down in a way that will stop his fall.

Because he's falling, hard and fast and he wants nothing more than to enjoy it.

“You did nothing I didn't want you to,” Dan repeats, because it's important that he says so, it's important that Phil understands exactly what he's trying to say.

It looks like he does. “Yeah?” he asks, face tilting up just so that Dan's hand is now cupping his jaw properly, an invitation if Dan has ever seen one.

Dan nods, lowering his head so that his next words are whispered against Phil's lips, “I wanted you. I still do.”

And then they're kissing.

Dan isn’t sure who moves first, what gives the push to close the last centimeters between their mouths  - maybe it’s both of them, the tension building up during the days of not speaking to each other, or maybe it’s all Dan, the desire running through him fueled by the sensation of Phil’s frame pressed between him and the mahogany desk behind his back, the way he’s still holding himself on that ridiculous bouncy ball that has been part of Dan’s dreams for longer than he’d like to admit.

Maybe it’s all Phil, drinking him in with his eyes and burning through his skin with the intensity of his gaze. Maybe they both just want this, maybe it’s not just Dan, tired of denying it and pulling back from their relentless flirting, always afraid of screwing up, ruining their project, never being able to work together again. Maybe this is the proof that Phil - with his body, his lips and the way they’re moving against his own - wants Dan just as much as Dan wants him, that this is everything he thought and dreamt of since they first started to get to know each other.

They’ve been kissing for what feels like hours when they pause to catch their breath, lips tingling and minds dizzy. Their bodies are pressed as close as possible, Dan hovering over Phil with his knee placed in between his open legs, chests almost touching. His eyes race all over Phil’s face, taking in his blown out pupils and his dishevelled hair, one arm reaching back on the desk for some leverage, the other on Dan’s hip, surprisingly grounding. He’s panting, mouth slightly open as he looks at Dan with what looks like shock.

“I -”, he starts, voice hoarse immediately reminding Dan of the way he was talking to him the previous week on Skype. “I was so sure you would hate me,” he says after he clears his throat, trailing off as he keeps staring at Dan, almost like he’s afraid he’s gonna disappear any second.

Dan isn’t going anywhere, he never wants to be anywhere that Phil isn’t.

“You make me fucking crazy,” Dan says, getting even closer, knee almost resting against Phil’s crotch as one hand moves to hold onto his shoulders, feeling the broadness of them under his fingertips, the smoothness of the shirt and the way it clings to Phil’s body. The hand that is still cupping Phil’s face moves in a gentle caress down the lines of his neck, relishing in the pulsing heartbeat that he can feel, their bodies fully aware of the proximity between them. “Since day one you drove me insane and yet I could never hate you, I want you too much for that.”

Their mouths crash together once more, pushing and pulling and teasing, their teeth clashing with too much enthusiasm that neither of them care about, too focused on the rush of giving in to the feelings they’ve bottled up for so long. Dan thinks this might be the best kiss of his entire life.

“I’ve wanted you since day one,” Phil gasps out at the next pause, the words sounding as if they’re being punched out of him. “I couldn’t believe it when you stepped into my office, you were so gorgeous and skittish and all I wanted was to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t _have_ you.”

“You could,” Dan rushes out, because he wants nothing more than to reassure Phil that he’s wanted this for just as long, just as much. That if he wanted, he could have taken Dan in this same room that very first day, with his ridiculous corgi shirt and the impeccable quiff, looking gorgeous and brilliant and _so Phil_ , everything Dan wanted, even before he could admit it.

“I’m your boss,” Phil says once again, sounding wrecked as he says so, eyes so dark behind his glasses that Dan almost has trouble recognizing the colours. “I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t want you like _this_.”

The last word is followed by a subtle movement of his hips before Phil tugs Dan even closer, aligning his crotch to Dan’s leg, his mouth trailing down from his mouth to his jaw, pressing tiny fleeting kisses on Dan’s burning skin and giving the first thrust of his hips.

Dan swallows hard, he feels like there’s no more air in his lungs, suddenly extremely aware of every place where their bodies are touching. He forces himself to breathe properly and send enough oxygen to his brain, but it seems like his focus is now firmly on his lower half, where he can feel Phil’s cock, already half hard, pressing against his knee. He is almost paralyzed, afraid to move a muscle and break the spell they seem to be in, not knowing if he can trust himself not to screw it up, not when Phil seems to be fully focused on driving him crazy, almost like he’s trying to redeem himself for hurting Dan after the amazing Skype sex that they’re still not talking about.

“P-Phil, please-”

Dan’s brain short circuits the moment Phil’s lips press against his neck, all thoughts about where they are and how much he wants them to talk flying out of the room. The only thing he’s aware of is Phil’s tongue licking the most sensitive part of his body besides his bottom, his hands everywhere and nowhere at the same time, his touch overwhelming and yet not enough. He scrambles for purchase as Phil starts sucking, feeling heat starting to pool in his crotch as that nimble mouth works on his pulsepoint.

He bucks his hips against Phil, his cock straining in his jeans, more and more irritated with the uncomfortable position but still unwilling to put an end to this, not when he’s waited this long. He focuses on the way Phil’s lips feel on his neck, already imagining the masterpiece he will sport after the man is finished biting him - he already can’t wait to look at himself in the mirror and see the Phil’s mark on his skin.

He can’t be the only one miserable, he decides, moving the hand on Phil’s shoulder to the collar of his shirt, fingers numbly undoing the first couple of buttons before he can protest, his hand sneaking inside to finally feel the skin under his fingers, the soft patch of dark hair he was oh so focused on only a few days before. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have Phil in person, right under him, kissing him and rutting against his knee as if he can’t have enough of him.

Dan feels crazy as his fingers find their way to Phil’s nipple, thumb rubbing at it ever so slightly, teasing him just like he promised over Skype. He’s rewarded by a loud moan bitten into the side of his neck, the movement only spurring him on as he takes the hard bud between his fingers to tweak it and twist it, pulling himself slightly away from Phil so that he can look at his face, watching him gasp incoherently before his long fingers are fisting his hair and tugging Dan down to once again smash their lips together in a dance that they seem to be perfecting.

Dan feels like he isn’t in control of his movements anymore, his hand moving to Phil’s pants without him realizing, fingers frantically playing with the button, trying to unbuckle it as he tries not to lose the rhythm of Phil’s lips on his. As soon as he opens it, he doesn’t waste time reaching inside to cup Phil’s cock inside his boxers, moaning against his lips as he feels the weight and the shape of it between his fingers.

The sensation is enough to elicit a gasp out of Phil, his mouth pulling back to let out a choked, “D-Dan, shit - someone could come in - ” Despite his broken words, however, Phil’s hips thrust forwards in Dan’s hand and the grip of his hands on Dan’s waist tightens, the idea of them leaving a mark on his skin making Dan dizzy with pleasure.

Dan doesn’t care about anyone else at the moment, would put on a show if he could. “Everyone has gone home,” he says, closing the fingers around Phil’s cock to pull another moan out of his mouth. He can feel his own jeans tightening painfully, his cock swelling rapidly as he rubs more vigorously, loving the warmth of it and wishing nothing more that he could undress him right there, to see and touch him without the constriction of the clothes.

“Dan, _Dan_ , you gotta stop.”

The words are enough to get through the cloud of his mind and bring out a panic in him. He abruptly stops every movement, removing the hand from Phil’s pants and pulling back, aware that he must have a manic look on his face. He doesn’t care, not really, all he wants is to make sure Phil is okay, that he didn’t push too far too soon - that would be just like him, Dan muses, his chest starting to tighten painfully. How painfully ironic it would be, really, that Phil had been so worried about harassing him when here Dan is, taking advantage of him, giving him a handjob in the middle of the office, _God, what must he think-_

“No, no, Dan, stop that.” Phil utters, his voice slightly higher than their previous sentences. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop, it’s not that. I didn’t stop you because I wasn’t enjoying that.”

He pulls a face, trying to shift so that he doesn’t have to look at him, Phil’s hands shooting out to grab him and keep him in place. “But-”

“I mean it, I just..” He blushes furiously, the colour of it striking with the paleness of his skin. “I was - enjoying it _too much_.”

Realization burns in Dan’s mind, bringing out what, he’s sure, is a similar blush on his own cheeks. “Oh. Oh. Uhm, I.. I wouldn’t mind.”

Phil smirks at that, the smirk Dan has missed so much, with the tip of his tongue peeking out in between his teeth and his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not here, not like this.” He seems to sober up a little bit at that, which is admirable Dan thinks, his own brain a mixture of jumbled thoughts of worry and sexual deprivation. “Come to my house. I want to talk, properly.”

He looks earnest as he says so, his hands on Dan’s hips grounding but not suffocating, everything about him open and honest in a way that should be terrifying and yet is the complete opposite. Dan should think about this, he knows, should ponder the consequences on an invitation like that when he knows that it’s more likely that they’re going to end up fucking rather than talking, and his questions might end up without an answer, at least for now.

Is he okay with that, is that what he wants? Are those questions important enough that he wants them answered right now, important enough that they deserve an answer before he can trust Phil and give in to him, once and for all?

He’s not sure about that, not really, but one thing he knows for sure: if that were the case, if his questions were important enough that he demanded an answer for them, he knows that Phil would listen to him, really listen, would cradle his worries and his doubts in his hands like the most precious of birds and take care of them, give them the attention Dan needs.

And that’s enough to make up his mind.

“Let’s go.”

\--

That first week is spent learning everything about their bodies and how they work together, building up their level of confidence with each other. Dan doesn’t really have a lot of experience with relationships - he’s had flings here and there, meaningless things that never lasted more than a few weeks and barely involved any feelings - and it really takes him by surprise just how at ease he feels around Phil, especially when he compares it to the shaky beginnings of their relationship.

It’s almost impossible for him to reconcile those days of feeling inadequate around Phil to where they are now, tangled up and surrounded by nothing but their scents mixing together. It’s madness, and yet Dan wouldn’t change a single thing about it, not when he feels like his heart could burst out of his chest with happiness.

When Monday morning rolls around, the first rays of sunlight shining through the curtains in Phil’s bedroom and washing over their still half naked bodies, Dan isn’t ready to let the bubble burst. It’s too early, the city barely awake and his body weighted down in the most delicious way, and he doesn’t want to leave this bed or this man, especially not when he has to do it at such an ungodly hour, walking back to his own apartment to get clean clothes and face the real world. He’s going to do everything in his power to not let it happen, like not letting Phil get dressed, for example.

From months of conversations, Dan knows that there are very few things Phil enjoys doing in the morning - especially when he hasn’t had any coffee, blue eyes barely open and mind slowed down by the lack of caffeine - and he imagines that wearing and then taking off countless different shirts for Dan’s entertainment is certainly not one of those. He can see that he’s starting to feel a little bit frustrated as he faces the mirror once again, fighting to button up the navy blue shirt that looks oh so good on him. It’s not Dan’s fault, really, that he wants nothing more than to keep touching him and stop him from covering up that gorgeous expanse of pale skin.

“Are you sure you don’t like this?”

“Mmmh. Yes.”

“Okay.” Phil sounds resigned now, like he knows exactly what Dan is doing. Dan thinks it’s a good sign, then, that he’s not calling him out on it and going along with it. “What about the black one?”

“No, god, what are you thinking? That’s too dark for a morning meeting.”  
  
Phil sighs loudly at that, finally giving in to Dan’s game and taking off the shirt, then setting it on the bed - next to the maroon button up that he contemplated wearing for all of two minutes, the amount of time it took Dan to coax him out of it; when he turns to look at him, Dan raises a brow in invitation, watching him with a lip bitten smile, taking in his dishevelled hair and his marked up chest.

“Dan, _please_ . You have to help me _choose_ a shirt, not dismiss every single one I show you with some lame excuse.”

“Your mum’s lame.”

“Oh my _god_.”

His voice is laced with both annoyance and fondness, and Dan feels that familiar tug at his chest at the sound of it, the warmth of affection towards this man that he can finally call _his_. He can feel the grin that starts surfacing on his face, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner. He’s positive that he looks completely smitten as he looks up at Phil.

He can’t believe that this is his life now, that he can have this, finally, after thinking for so long that he wasn’t allowed, that he wasn’t _wanted_. He tells himself that that’s the reason why he can’t pry his eyes away from the expanse of pale skin covered in bruises he’d left there only the night before.

“You can’t blame me, _Mr Lester_ . You just look much, much better _without_ a shirt.” He lowers his voice so that it sounds languid and inviting, anything to entice the other man back to bed - the bed that he has seen on Skype for so many nights, fighting the traitorous desire to be in it, feel the comfort of the soft pillows and the heat from Phil’s body.

Dan can tell the exact moment Phil stops fighting his own desires, his shoulders relaxing before he crawls back to bed, hovering over him with an amused look in his eyes. “You are _impossible_ ,” he whispers, leaving an open mouthed kiss on his collarbone, the sound of his morning voice going straight to Dan’s cock.

“Mmmh.” Dan hums, incoherent as Phil’s lips travel freely down his chest, raising his arms from the white sheets to wrap them around Phil’s half naked body and intertwining Phil’s legs with his, thoroughly creasing the elegant black pants that Phil has been wearing for less than ten minutes. “Stay in bed some more, it’s so early.”

Phil shakes his head slightly, trying to extricate himself from Dan’s hold, but this isn’t a fight Dan is willing to lose. He thrusts with his hips so that he can roll over, trapping Phil under his own body. He takes his time to drink in the sight of Phil, half dressed, looking up at him with lust in his eyes.

It’s hard to stop himself from begging him to stay, accompanying his words with light kisses and nibbles on Phil’s chest, his lips closing around his left nipple, eliciting a small moan. “I have a meeting,” Phil gasps out, not for the first time since they have woken up - it’s almost like he believes that, if he keeps saying it, Dan will agree and stop teasing him. Except it comes out more broken than decisive, his hips thrusting up to meet Dan’s as his lips continue their wandering over Dan’s body.

“You have a meeting with PJ and Jack, I’m sure they won’t mind. You can be a bit late.” Dan says, mischievous, his hand joining in on the journey of his lips, fingers caressing the skin just above Phil’s waistband, eliciting a new series of shivers.

“They’re gonna wonder-”

A louder moan fills Dan’s ears as his fingers quickly unzip Phil’s pants and dip into his underwear, barely touching him - he wants to, wants him so bad, always, but not if Phil really wants to stop, not if he’s gonna be in trouble and regret it later. Dan never wants Phil to regret a thing, not when it comes to the two of them together.

“D-Dan-” Phil chokes out as Dan mouths at his nipples once again, feeling himself hardening even more. It’s incredible, he thinks, how intensely his body reacts when he’s with Phil, how quickly the idea of making him lose his mind with _want_ can turn him on even if he isn’t being touched in return, how strong and blinding his pleasure is when combined with Phil’s.

“You’re leaving for another conference in two days.” He raises his head then, lets his eyes communicate what he can’t say with his words. _Let me love you, let me show you how I can love you so that you won’t forget about me, so that you’ll miss me just like I’ll miss you._ “Let me make you feel good.”

Phil opens his mouth at Dan’s words, pupils blown wide with lust, and licks his lips. His eyes search Dan’s face - he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he stays there, open and exposed in more ways than one, for Phil to read. Then, when he’s starting to second guess himself, when he’s starting to worry if he’s pushing too much, Phil’s hand lays on his cheek, feather light.

“Please,” he says, fingers caressing Dan’s face for a few seconds before subtly pushing him down, letting him know that it’s okay.

That’s all it takes for Dan to let Phil push on his head until he reaches his crotch, mouthing at the already half bulge there, a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that Phil will have to either change out of these trousers or wear them for the entire day, remembering what Dan did to him. It’s with that thought that he finally, _finally_ pulls them down completely, along with the plain black underwear underneath, so that his lips can finally wrap around Phil, the salty taste exploding on his tongue.

Dan closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it, already craving the moment when Phil will return the favor, knowing that the impending meeting has been shoved to the back of both their minds, at least for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Daria so so much for her amazing art!! Please go give it some love and reblog [HERE](https://odnakodaga.tumblr.com/post/181245648437/my-phandom-big-bang-2018-illustration-for-an)


	6. Chapter 6

Dan isn’t a stranger to feeling like all eyes are on him, all the time. It isn’t vanity, this neverending feeling of being watched, of being talked about, of being judged.  

Underneath it all lay his many insecurities, the voices inside his head - that usually sound just like himself - that make him pause a little bit before setting foot inside a room where he can hear people talking quietly amongst themselves, on the off chance that they’re talking about him. Some days it’s harder to ignore those voices, harder to not let them turn into something that makes him question everything - his appearance, his already poor social skills, how much he deserves to stand there in the office, a couple of months left before his apprenticeship is up.

He feels even more watched, nowadays, almost like everyone around him can feel the happiness radiating from his body. They must, he thinks, with how happy he feels, how much wider his smile seems to be. Phil had commented on it, the other night on Skype, how bright Dan’s smile was, how fond the look in his eyes had become. Dan couldn’t do anything but duck his head, trying to hide the bashful look on his face. Phil had still been able to see it, though, if the way his eyes were crinkling was any indication. 

How can people not see the skip in his footing, the way he smiles easier, laughs harder? Dan feels like happiness is bursting out of him all the time, as if his body isn’t big enough to contain it, this overwhelming feeling of joy over the fact that he gets to think about Phil, dream about him, talk to him and doesn’t have to feel ashamed for any of it, not anymore. He can share some of those feelings with Phil now, although without  naming them - it’s too early, he knows it is, even though he feels like he’s loved Phil since the first moment he set eyes on him, seated at his desk, bouncing on that stupid blue ball.

Dan is brought back from his wandering thoughts by a big hand placed on his shoulder. He’s proud of himself for not jumping, and turns around to face Kevin, his familiar grip something that Dan has gotten accustomed to by now. 

“Hey! We’re grabbing a beer at that pub down the street, you coming?”

There’s a hopeful smile on Kevin’s face, the same one that he keeps sending Dan’s way whenever he tries to set him up with one of his friends - he has a lot of them, bless him, not that Dan would ever doubt it, with the way he’s just so endlessly nice to everyone he meets. Sometimes Dan wishes he was like Kevin, even just a tiny bit - able to fit himself into social situations without overthinking every word he says.

He hates to disappoint Kevin, hates to be responsible for the frown that settles on his face whenever Dan spoils his plans. Dan considers it, if only for a second, before he remembers that Phil is supposed to have a free evening and they promised to talk over Skype, hoping for a recreation of the fantasies they’ve been texting each other over the past couple of days. “Oh. No, uh, thanks I’ll just - I think I’ll go home, rest a bit.”

As expected, Kevin’s face falls at those words. It makes Dan feel horrible, like he’s just kicked a puppy. He’s about to open his mouth to apologize when Louise appears right behind Kevin, already wearing the bright coral coat that Dan has gotten so used to seeing every day. “Come on Dan, you haven’t been out with us in forever!”

Kevin perks up at that, as if Louise is his last chance to convince Dan to come. It’s almost sweet, really, how hard they’re trying to include him. Almost. “Yeah, how am I supposed to find you a boyfriend like this?” 

“That’s - I’m fine, it’s fine, I need to send some stuff to Phil anyway.”

That earns him an eyeroll and a huff from Louise, who doesn’t even try to pretend like she means anything but it. “I swear, you should just date Phil, I have no idea how you guys can work together and still talk to each other.”

“Shut up,” Dan whines, turning around to face his screen once again, hoping it will stop them from nagging him about the way his cheeks have definitely gone red, or the way his voice has risen higher, the way it does when he’s embarrassed by something he doesn’t want to admit. He’s not sure either of them knows him well enough to pick up on that, but he’s been told over and over just how transparent he is, how easy it is to read him. His feelings always show on his face plain as day, in the brown swirls of his eyes, the curve of his dimple or the way he purses his lips.

“They’re both tall and lanky, they could actually work.”

“Right? Too bad Phil doesn’t date,” is Louise’s amused reply, It’s clearly a joke to her, almost like it’s an idea that she can’t bring herself to even entertain. 

_ He does. He’s dating me,  _ Dan wants to say, has to press his lips together to prevent the words from tumbling out, can almost feel the weight of them on his tongue. Every single nerve in his body is tingling with how much he wants to say it, tingling with how possessive he feels, with the idea that he gets Phil in a way that seems impossible.

But he can’t, because that isn’t what he and Phil agreed to, what Phil feels comfortable with. They’re not meant to let people at the office know, no matter how much Dan wants to - it would be bad, Phil says, it would make too many people quirk an eyebrow at them, talk behind their backs about favoritism. Dan agrees, to some extent, but he can’t help himself that he wants to show just how happy he is, and who he has to thank for that.

He won’t, so he keeps his lips pressed shut, his eyes trained on the screen and waits for Louise and Kevin to give up on trying to convince him and walk away. Only then does Dan let out the breath he’s been holding for the past few minutes, heart beating fast.

It’s fine, he tells himself. He will talk to Phil tonight, see him in just a few days. He doesn’t need to share his feelings with anyone else, he can be content with keeping them for himself, at least for now.

\--

Their first proper date doesn't go as smoothly as Dan had hoped. 

Neither of them is to blame, really, and the plan for the night sounds good the moment Dan hears it - dinner and some fun times at one of their flats - but it doesn't go quite as planned.

They've spent time together since that first amazing weekend, putting time aside to get coffee together before or after work, sharing secret touches when passing each other in the office and even the occasional take away eaten hastily in their hurry to tangle together in bed. 

They still talk on Skype when they're spending time apart, and when Phil first leaves for a conference - merely two days after giving  the go ahead to this surprising relationship - Dan spends the evening checking his phone for new notifications, almost yelping in excitement when the screen finally turns on with Phil's name on it.

It's surprising, the amount of things they can talk about without running out of topics, and how easy it feels to let the conversation quiet down to a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company over the internet connection.

They're no strangers to spending time just the two of them - so why is it suddenly weird, Dan wonders as he's seated at the table of one of the nicest restaurant he's ever been to, heart hammering in his chest as he sends a nervous glance around the room, feeling watched.

Phil doesn't look much better, fidgeting with the cutlery and the food on his plate as he tries - and fails - to sneak nervous looks around the restaurant, bottom lip caught in between his teeth, looking like he would love nothing more than to leave. It confuses Dan, and it makes him just as nervous in return, as if he’s expecting to be caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Dan barely suppresses a sigh, frustrated with himself and with the entire evening. He likes food, likes to feel spoiled and cherished and, more importantly, he likes Phil. He likes him a lot, so much so that he still cannot quite believe that he's really on a date with him, still feels the delicious thrill as he takes in just how gorgeous Phil looks, with the maroon shirt clinging to his broad chest and the black rimmed glasses framing his face, much to Dan’s delight. 

The place is nice but not over the top, secluded tables scattered around to preserve privacy and still show the view of the city from the big windows behind them. There’s other people around them, mostly couples smiling at each other and holding hands, the sound of all those quiet conversations a relaxing soundtrack to their own meal. 

Their own conversation has been going smoothly, that isn’t something that’s changed - they’re still able to talk about everything, bouncing off each other without forcing it. So why does something feel off? Why is it that now, when they’re between conversations and silence has fallen between them, with the knowledge that they’re not inside the safe boundaries of one of their apartments, a shadow of doubt seems to be cast over them?

Dan takes a sip from his wine as he wills his brain to do anything but focus on the way Phil’s eyes keep flying between the view outside the window to the tables scattered around them, a small frown set in between his brows. He doesn’t look bored, Dan thinks, but he hopes - more than anything - that Phil’s actually enjoying their date, and isn’t simply forcing himself to endure it because Dan had wanted it.

It’s in that moment of silence that Phil seems to feel Dan’s eyes on him, raising his gaze to meet his. There’s a blush on his cheeks that Dan never fails to find adorable, but his smile is bashful. “Sorry, I’m being daft,” he murmurs, tone almost sounding guilty. 

Dan takes the time to finish his drink and set the glass on the table, debating with himself whether he should brush the apology off or engage in the conversation. He doesn’t want anything to ruin the night, but one of the main things he and Phil had agreed on, when they first decided to date, was that their relationship is already complicated enough as it is. Dan reasons with himself therefore that keeping secrets from each other and avoiding communication at times like this probably wouldn’t be the best decision,

“Just talk to me,” Dan says, eyes lowering to look at Phil’s hand placed on the table, so close to his that he can almost feel the warmth emanating from the skin. His fingers twitch with the desire to touch it, to have some kind of sensory confirmation that Phil is still there, with him. “Is, uh, is something wrong?”

“No, no!” Phil rushes out to say, voice raising slightly before dropping right after. “No, everything is great, and you - God,  _ you’re  _ great.”

There’s a soft feeling spreading through his body, almost like Phil has wrapped him up in a soft blanket, trying to shield him from the worries of his own mind. It’s almost enough to make him forget just why he’s feeling slightly off - that, and the way Phil is looking at him, despite everything, eyes fond and shining with warmth. 

Phil doesn’t stop talking, though, fingers starting to play with the hem of the tablecloth. “I just - I keep thinking that someone we know might be around and getting paranoid over it.” He gives a tiny laugh at that, then says, a bit bitterly “Like I said, I’m being daft.”

Dan frowns. “Are you… ashamed? Of dating me?”

Phil’s eyes widen almost exaggeratedly, the blue of the irises almost too much to handle. “No, what - no!” He says, and the frown on his face is almost deeper now, as if he’s frustrated that Dan doesn’t quite get it. “I’m not, of course I’m not. I like you, you know I do.”

Dan knows, although it’s still hard to believe that it isn’t just one of his elaborate dreams.

“But -”

“I just - I don’t want people to think it’s inappropriate.They would  _ talk _ , they would know. ”

It’s not the first time they’ve talked about this, not since they first started dating, but Dan still can’t quite fully accept it. He knows Phil has his reasons, and he understands them, at least partially, but he just. He’s happy. He doesn’t like feeling like he has to tamper his happiness because of other people.

“We’ve gone places together, many times.”

“Yeah but - this is a date. There’s no way this looks like anything but a romantic date.”

Dan wishes he didn’t feel as bittersweet as he does right now, that he didn’t wonder whether Phil’s almost apologetic tone means he’s less than happy about this evening being a romantic date. “Yeah.”

Phil’s expression softens almost instantly at that, before turning into a sigh. “God, I’m an idiot. This is our first proper date and I’m ruining it.”

“It’s fine,” Dan reassures him, even though he can’t bring himself to look Phil in the eyes as he utters those words.

His heart almost skips a beat as he feels warm fingers settle on top of his, and he raises his eyes to look at Phil’s hand covering his own, thumb gently stroking the skin of it. He moves his gaze higher to find Phil’s eyes, soft and pleading and a little bit dopey, everything Dan likes, everything he wants.

“It’s not. Stop being so nice to me when I don’t deserve it and tell me when I’m being an idiot, please.”

Dan’s face almost hurts with the strain of trying to keep his smile away, of not showing just how happy he is, how this simple gesture has so much meaning. He feels warm, inside and out, a faint blush on his cheeks as he lets his eyes roam Phil’s face, taking in the way the soft light of the room reflects on his skin.

“Phil?”

“Hm?”

“You’re an idiot.”

They remain quiet for a moment, fiercely looking into each other’s eyes, almost like they’re challenging the other to drop his gaze first. In the end, it’s Phil that loses, but only because Dan sticks his tongue out while also trying to maintain the most serious look he can muster. It’s cheating, Dan knows it, but he can’t bring himself to care when Phil’s eyes crinkle with laughter as he shakes his head, the last remnant of concern seemingly disappearing and one of his long legs moving underneath the tablecloth, finding Dan’s and staying there, a reassuring touch that Dan has been craving all evening. 

\--

Dan thinks he’s never going to get used to standing in PJ’s office, trying not to bite at his fingernails as he watches PJ look at the final draft for one of his adverts that needs to be printed, he feels sweat collect down his back at the look of concentration on PJ’s face as he moves paper sheet after paper sheet, examining each of them only a few inches away from his face. 

He feels like a child, waiting for his teacher to give him the result of his final test of the year, trying to resist the urge to explain exactly what he thinks about each stroke of pencil on the paper, illustrate his vision step by step. He resists, mostly because he knows better than to tell PJ what to do when it comes to reading a design, knows that when it comes to creative ideas and projects, the creators should never explain but rather let the person try and understand it, see what the first thing that comes to their mind is, listen to their feedback. It’s one of the hardest thing he had had to deal with since starting his apprenticeship, and he still hasn’t gotten over the anxiety of waiting for a verdict.

It seems like hours go by before PJ places the last piece of paper on the desk and raises his eyes to look straight at Dan, a small smile on his face, slowly melting away the focused look behind his glasses. “I think that’s it,” he says, a proud tone in his voice, warm and just as good as a congratulatory pat on the back. “I'm really impressed by that, actually. I mean, not that I had any doubt but - you know. It wasn’t an easy task.”

There's a rush of something going through Dan’s body - maybe relief or possibly pride. Dan isn’t able to tell; however what he knows is that he can feel a smile stretch his mouth, can feel the breath that he had been holding leave his body. He feels lighter somehow, almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, I - thank you so much. I was really nervous.”

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I was sure things would be okay - well, not at first, but after you and Phil started to work together, then  I knew.” PJ says, nodding to himself with a pensive look on his face. “I must say, I was kind of worried at first. But now that I’ve watched you work together for months, I think you make a good team.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it's like you.. understand each other or something like that. Like, you balance each other out in the best way possible.”

Dan ducks his head to retrieve the sheets of papers still scattered on PJ’s desk, hoping to hide the rush of colour that is certainly showing on his cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows at first but I think we found our way, in the end.”

PJ nods again, that same proud smile still on his face, only wider, almost like he’s trying to hide a secret by showcasing it to Dan. “You really did. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do together next.”

“So, do you think that’s okay then?” Dan asks, trying to divert PJ’s attention back to the project so that he doesn’t accidentally say more than he should, so he doesn’t accidentally let him know just how many things he wants to do with Phil, in the near future but also even farther away than that, that he has a whole lot of dreams about things that he wants to happen, Phil a constant in all of them. “Are we ready to go?”

“You have my blessing.”

PJ’s words have something in them, a glimmer that Dan isn’t fully able to catch, only there for a second, t leaving Dan to wonder if he’s imagining it. He blinks, and the moment is gone, PJ is simply PJ, smiling at him for a job well done. It’s all fine.

\--

The water is warm but not boiling hot, it feels perfect surrounding them, the quiet lull of it splashing around whenever they move. 

Dan knows that Phil must not be in the most comfortable position, crammed in a bathtub that is barely big enough to contain him, let alone the two of them together, Dan’s back resting on Phil’s chest, their legs almost indistinguishable from each other, so tangled up together and covered in fruity soap. 

Phil doesn’t seem to mind, however, head resting on Dan’s shoulder, tracing a journey of tiny kisses from Dan’s ear to his jaw, giving each inch of skin the same level of affection. There’s nothing sexual about it, although he’s sure that they could turn the situation pretty quickly if they wanted to, but neither of them feel that kind of rush tonight. There’s soft music playing from Dan’s phone, a candle burning somewhere inside the bathroom - to create a romantic atmosphere Phil had said, despite the fact that he always seems to have a candle burning in his apartment, no matter the situation. 

Dan is still thinking about the meeting of that day, the way PJ had looked at him and told him how he couldn’t wait to see he and Phil work together again. It prompts him to talk, breaking the almost silence of the room.

“PJ said we work well together.”

Phil tenses slightly, a small tightening of his arms that Dan only notice because he’s in between them, shielded by the cold of the outside air. “Hm?” Is the noncommittal response that Phil gives, the sound a brush of his lips against Dan’s ear.

“I showed him Mulién’s final draft today, the one we sent to printing. He really liked it”

“Of course he did,” Phil says, a hint of pride in his voice, so sweet and warm that Dan has to turn around, uncaring of the water splashing around him, has to watch the way Phil’s face is illuminated by the dim lights of the bathroom, all sharp angles and smooth skin that he sometimes can’t believe he gets to touch.

“He says he can’t wait to see what we do together next.”

Dan looks at the shadow that passes over Phil’s face, so quick that he tells himself it’s probably the flickering of the candle. It doesn’t last more than a second, before Phil’s eyes are turning darker, gaze dropping to Dan’s lips and then back up again, smile slowly turning into a mischievous grin that makes Dan’s stomach twist in the most pleasant way.

“Well,” Phil says, words whispered against Dan’s lips, “I have a few ideas in mind.”

PJ isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, completely forgotten. 

\--

It doesn’t take long, what with the preparation for the Mulién campaign’s release, before the second half of May arrives. Dan doesn’t even realize it, at least not right away. It happens suddenly, one afternoon when he’s looking at his calendar, pondering if he’s going to manage some time off from work to go visit his Nana before his birthday. He stops in his track, frowning at all the empty slots he finds there. 

It doesn’t seem right, the complete lack of appointments in his calendar as soon as June starts, and he refreshes the page a couple of times, thinking there must be  a weird glitch that’s only affecting him. 

The realization comes suddenly, a freezing shower down his back as he’s left staring at the screen. Of course he doesn’t have any appointments once June arrives - his apprenticeship ends on May 31st.  

His breathing starts going funny after that, a too quick intake of air that isn’t enough to make him feel like he’s actually breathing and not drowning in that same room, surrounded by people that he’s started to feel comfortable with, and that he’s now unsure he’s going to see ever again. 

_ Breathe, Dan. Breathe. _

He tries to remind himself that there’s no point overthinking it, no point in going into a self-induced panic when he doesn’t know, really, what is going to happen. It might not be bad, after all. There’s still time, he thinks, even though each beat of his own heart feels like the ticking of an invisible clock keeping track of what little time he still has at Accordion. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see David frowning at him, his eyes focused on Dan’s face from above his monitor. Dan presses the headphones down on his head, as if trying to cover his ears even more, trying to shield himself from the unwanted attention of the others. 

It’s fine, he tells himself - but maybe he will ask Phil, just to be safe.   

\--

Dan doesn’t ask Phil right away. Part of him tells him that he should just wait a couple of days more, just to see if maybe HR is simply taking longer to sort out all the necessary paperwork. He almost asked Louise on a whim, during their weekly breakfast. He went as far as saying “wait, I was just wondering -”, her blue eyes wide and questioning him, before he changed the subject, deflecting his question to ask her if she was going to finish her croissant. She was, obviously. 

He waits until it’s Friday night to bring the conversation up, feeling confident enough with his body engulfed by Phil’s arms, their legs tangled together on Dan’s barely big enough sofa. There’s a movie playing on the television, and Phil’s fingers are in Dan’s hair, mindlessly tugging at the loose curls, effectively destroying any effort Dan had put into it that morning. 

Dan doesn’t want to interrupt the moment, his stomach twisting at the idea of it - he lives for this, for these moments when it’s just him and Phil, not on a date in some concealed restaurant in the outskirt of town, but simply sharing their own flats as if they’re shared, comfortable in enjoying the time that they have together. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more content than this, belly full of delicious take away and the prospect of a weekend he can spend with Phil, with nothing to do and nowhere to be except with each other.

But there’s a part of him, growing bigger and bigger the more time goes by, that won’t stop worrying about his work situation until he does talk about it. The thing is, he isn’t sure how to approach the subject, isn’t sure what the best way to ask is. 

So Dan, being himself, simply blurts it out when he feels like he can’t possibly hold it in anymore, taking advantage of the commercials playing on the tv. 

“Do you, uh, know anything about my contract?”

“Uh?” Is Phil’s immediate reaction to his question, his gaze still focused on the television. Dan’s words seem to reach his ears quite quickly, though, because he suddenly blinks, turning his head to look at Dan so fast that, for a moment, Dan wonders how he didn’t hurt his neck. “What? What do you mean?”

Dan bites his bottom lip, feeling cornered by the rush of anxiety that surges through him at the way Phil is looking at him, frown in between his eyebrows, almost accusing look in his blue eyes. Dan already wants to take it back, but he knows it wouldn’t make a difference - he’s already planted the seed. 

“I just -” Dan starts, before stopping, unsure on how to continue. “I mean. I just - PJ hasn’t spoken to me so -”

Phil’s voice has an accusing edge to it, each word enough to make Dan flinch. “ _ So _ , what? What are you saying?”

He’s never wanted to end a conversation more, knows instantly that it was the worst possible thing to bring up. “Nothing, nevermind. Forget it,” he says, shifting his gaze as he wills his heart to calm down. His brain scrambles to find an opportunity, anything to change the subject to, so that they can relax and go back to the quiet evening that now seems to be ruined. 

“Dan, look at me,” Phil says, voice almost pleading at first, and then harsher. “Dan.”

So he does, he does look at him, his heart beating wildly fast as he takes in the accusation in Phil’s eyes, the disappointment written all over his face. The sight leaves a bad taste in Dan’s mouth, makes him wonder,  _ why?  _ Why is Phil reacting like this, why is he acting like what Dan asked is so wrong? If he can’t talk about this, if he can’t talk to his  _ boyfriend  _ about something he’s worried about… then what?

Phil’s eyes search his face, his lips pressed in a thin line before he demands, “tell me.”

Dan takes a deep breath, resigning himself to a conversation that he knows, he  _ knows,  _ is not going to end well. He’s suddenly tired, deep down in his bones, an exhaustion that comes from anywhere but within. For the first time since he’s started to have feelings for Phil, he wishes he wasn’t right next to him. 

“Just - I was just wondering, Phil. My contract ends in a week, and I haven’t heard anything about it. I thought - I don’t know what I thought.” 

Dan knows that his voice rapidly loses intensity as he’s speaking until he’s basically whispering, the sound barely coming out of his mouth. His eyes are on Phil’s face but he’s trying not to look at him, afraid of what he will find. He doesn’t know what Phil is going to see on his face - is he seeing regret? Is he seeing sadness? Does he notice, Dan wonders, the moment of doubt he suddenly he has, the moment where he thinks,  _ is this really what I want?  _ The answer is yes, absolutely, it is. 

But it’s frustrating,  _ Phil _ is frustrating, and Dan wants to talk to him, wants to ask his advice, to know his stance on the situation - because, first and foremost, Dan respects his opinion.. 

Phil clearly doesn’t see it the same way. “I’ll tell you what you thought,” he says, voice raising on the last word just as he stands up, his body leaning a bit too forward. “You thought,  _ oh _ , Phil must know. And if he doesn’t, well, I’m just gonna ask him to put a good word in for me.”

Phil’s eyes are hard and his hands are clenched into fists, he looks nothing like the man that was sitting right next to Dan only a few minutes ago, fingers threading through his curls. The difference is staggering and that sight, more than the words he’s saying, leaves Dan speechless, mouth opening and closing without a sound coming from it. 

“Well?” Phil urges, looking down at Dan in a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around himself just to hide from the coldness in his voice. “Am I wrong?”

Dan has never been good when it comes to being unfairly accused, has never been good in keeping his mouth shut and swallowing his pride. He often ends up overthinking his reactions later, often regrets speaking up for himself, but he would rather take the chance of regretting defending himself as opposed to letting the matter go and hating himself for doing so. 

He thought it was a pattern that he and Phil had moved away from, thought he wouldn’t have to deal with the adrenaline rush of facing Phil for misjudging him. Dan was wrong, clearly, and it’s that particular revelation that triggers the switch in his brain and makes all the words come out. 

“You - what - yes. Yes, you are!” There’s an almost hysterical edge to Dan’s voice, the way it gets louder right at the end. He flinches at it, and expects Phil to do the same - he always does, always pouts adorably whenever Dan gets uncomfortably loud, grimaces at the volume of his voice before telling him, tongue in between his teeth as he grins, that he’s loud enough to break the sound barrier,  _ the idiot _ . 

Dan expects it, waits a full second for it, holds his breath just so that there’s nothing distracting him from the familiar teasing tone he’s about to hear - except, there’s nothing. 

There’s nothing, because Phil clearly isn’t listening to him - he isn’t really looking at Dan either, moving from the sofa and around the living room, shifting his gaze around in a frantic search for something, murmuring to himself. “I just - I can’t believe this, I told myself it was too good, I -”

Dan rushes to Phil the moment he realizes that Phil is slipping his shoes on, shaking his head to himself as if he’s trying to stop some intrusive thought. He grabs Phil’s arm to turn him around - delicately, the softest touch he can muster, not wanting to startle him or hurt him, in case he runs away like a cornered wild animal. “Would you stop? Would you - please, just  _ listen  _ to me, for once? I wasn’t asking you to do  _ anything _ .”

They haven’t really done much, barely danced around each other and the room, but they’re both breathless, almost like the tension in the room is thick enough to hinder their oxygen intake. Dan can feel Phil’s pulse underneath his fingers, the quick fluttering of his heartbeat - too quick, in an almost worrying way. Dan thinks his own pulse probably isn’t any slower.

“I’m not an idiot Dan, I knew you would do something like this, I was -”

It feels like a slap to the face, those words uttered without a single pause, without a single moment for Phil to think about them, to realize what he’s implying. Or maybe he does, maybe that’s exactly what he’s trying to say, the implication that Phil has always had such a low opinion of Dan. “What the fuck do you mean, you  _ knew _ ? You, what, were you waiting for this, for a reason to throw it back at me, your fucking  _ I told you so _ ?”

“Do you think I wanted this? Fuck, this is exactly what I  _ didn’t  _ want.”

“What is  _ this _ exactly, Phil? Are you still talking about this particular situation, or you and me, together?” Dan asks at last, because he can’t stop himself, really, can’t help letting the fears and doubts that have accumulated over the past two months tumble out of his mouth, without his control. He feels like every emotion he’s ever felt is about to come out, spill onto the floor in between the two of them, right in the open, for Phil to look at and judge. “Because it sounds, to me, like you thought from the very beginning that I would betray you or some shit like that.”

“Maybe I did.” 

Despite everything, it isn’t the answer Dan had been expecting. It makes him halt for a second, his fingers freeze as his brain tries to connect the mental picture he had of Phil and their evening together with the reality of it, the way Phil is struggling his way into his light denim jacket, the one that makes the blue in his eyes stand out even more, the one Dan convinced him to buy - he’s putting it on, ready to leave. 

And Dan isn’t ready, suddenly wants anything but that - wants to reach out to him, wrap his arms around him and keep him close, unable to let him go anywhere that isn’t Dan’s embrace, Dan’s apartment. Dan’s life.

“Where are you - Phil, Phil please,  _ please _ don’t leave.”

Phil looks sad, extremely so, a sadness that Dan has never wanted more to wipe away. “It’s better that I go, it’s - maybe it’s better like this.” It sounds final, so final, the look he gives Dan and the one he throws around the apartment before turning around, ready to leave. 

“What - wait, wait, Phil -”

The sound of the door closing behind Phil’s back is deafening in the silence of Dan’s apartment. He can feel his own interrupted sentences hanging in the air as if they want to escape his body, the weight of all the words he never managed to say to Phil almost enough to crush him. In the end, only a few of them make it out of Dan’s mouth - the most important ones, the ones that Dan has thought over and over during the last few months, dreaming about finding the right moment to free them into the world.

The ones that he never got to say to Phil, even though it’s the one thing that Dan had wanted to tell him, more than anything else.

“But - I love you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Despite his better judgement, Dan finds himself once again waiting - for a text, for a phone call, for a signal that will tell him that Phil is thinking about him, that he hasn’t disappeared on purpose, that he cares more than that.   
  
After the months spent together, harboring a relationship made mostly of running after him, of trying to understand his fears and his insecurities, Dan had thought he knew everything that he needed to know about Phil. Everything good and bad, every flaw and also every positive aspect of his personality, everything that made Phil, Phil.   
  
He should have known better. There are so many things he still doesn’t know about Phil - why he’s scared, why the first instinct he has when things get hard is to run away, why he doesn’t let Dan in. Why he always waits for Dan to make the first move.   
  
Dan is tired of being the one making decisions for both of them. It feels like that’s all he’s been doing for as long as  he’s known Phil, watching from afar as Phil tries and fails to navigate his clouded ideas and prejudices.    
  
Most of all, Dan is tired of being seen as part of the problem, no matter how hard he’s tried to help Phil find  a solution.    
  
\--   
  
All things considered, it doesn’t take him long to find out; Louise hasn’t stopped texting him since his last day, has threatened to show up at his apartment if he doesn’t keep in touch at least once a week. Knowing her, she’s probably not kidding.   
  
So he does, he replies to her texts and tries to engage in conversation whenever she calls, avoiding the topic of Phil as much as he can. It’s not that hard, because no matter how much of a gossip she is, Louise is also one of the kindest friends Dan has ever had in his life, and she knows better than to talk about something that, for all she knows, he isn’t keen on sharing.   
  
It’s not her fault, really, that the moment he asks what’s new at the office, without really paying too much attention to it, she delivers the news, expecting him to know. It’s not her fault that he doesn’t, it’s not her fault that he hasn’t kept her in the loop about what’s going on between him and Phil. It’s not her fault that something as trivial for her is enough to break his heart, to make a knot form in his throat.   
  
“Member of the board,” he says, his hold on the phone loose. His voice is flat, he can hear it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it, to give it a bit more colour so that she doesn’t worry about him, doesn’t ask questions.    
  
He doesn’t have enough energy to think about others first, not anymore. It’s like the last couple of weeks waiting for Phil have drained him, completely.   
  
She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t think much about it, because she keeps talking, “yes, I know! Oh you should’ve seen him, he looked so surprised, like a kid getting a surprise gift when it’s not their birthday.” She chuckles, probably recalling the scene in her mind. “I don’t know why he was so surprised though, it was expected, we’ve all known for months now, and with how good your project turned out, it was -”   
  
“Member. Of the board.” His breathing has gone funny, and he probably sounds mental, repeating the same four words as if he’s trying to discover the hidden meaning behind them, but he can’t help it.    
  
“I - yes, he - uh,” she falters, clearly realizing that the conversation is not going as expected. “I - wait, you - Dan.”   
  
“Louise, I -”   
  
“You didn’t know?”   
  
She sounds so surprised, as if the mere idea of it - of Dan not knowing something about Phil, something that he’s been working for for years -  is ridiculous.    
  
He feels the beginning of tears prickling at his eyes. “I - I gotta go.”   
  
“Dan, wait -”   
  
He hangs up before he can hear what she has to say, before she can pity him for getting involved with his boss and then having his heart broken over it.   
  
Of course, Phil got promoted. Of course. He’s young and smart and driven, and he’s one of the most hardworking people Dan has ever known. He’s everything Dan has ever wanted.   
  
And now, Phil has everything he wanted, and he doesn’t deem Dan important enough to even tell him about it. It’s not hard to realize why: Phil might be everything Dan has ever wanted, but it seems more and more clear that Dan isn’t what Phil wanted, not really, not in the long run.    
  
Dan was a tool, a way to ease the road to a goal that Phil really cared about. Why would Phil care about telling him, now that Dan can’t help him anymore?   
  
He snuggles further into the fuzzy blanket he’s thrown over himself, eyes staring at his tv without really seeing it.    
  
_ Well _ , he thinks bitterly. At least now he knows.    


\--

It’s always been his dream, to have his designs out there in the city, displayed somewhere crowded enough that everyone can admire them, can marvel at the choice of colors and try to understand the meaning underneath it all. He’s dreamed for most of his adult life of having a reaction like that, to be the one making people stop in their track and just look up at a poster, an advert, a logo. To make them stare in awe and wonder How did this come to life, who made it and for him to  be able to smile, proudly, thinking  _ Me. I did. You like my idea. _

He never would have thought that, when the day finally came, he would feel such sadness. He hates it, hates that something that should be a huge accomplishment for his career has turned so sour, tainted by the shadow of disappointment - for himself, for the way he let himself fall too quickly, too deep. 

Dan wills himself to look at the intricate lines of the adverts scattered around the center of London and to feel pride, feel joy. He notices the people looking at them, marveling at the creativity, at the inclusiveness, at the novelty of the idea - but feels nothing. He’s never felt more invisible.

Regret builds up in his chest as he quickly begins walking back home, head bowed down to avoid looking at the passersby. 

It’s been three weeks since his last day of work, sixteen days since Phil told him he doesn’t want to see him anymore, 5 days since Louise unleashed the news of Phil’s promotion. 

Now, the launch day of the first advert campaign that has his name on it, and he can't bring himself to enjoy it, his mind and heart entirely preoccupied with something else - with blue eyes and a lovely face that he should have stayed away from. 

It's funny, how for once in his life his anxiety was actually trying to keep him safe.

The rest of the morning passes in a breeze, burrowing himself in his couch as he’s done for the past few days, laptop on his legs and eyes barely moving from the screen. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, the productive thing, going through his emails to see if he has any requests from potential clients. 

He's not in any  _ real  _ need right now, Dan knows it. 

He's still supposed to get his last paycheck, and he was smart enough that he saved as much money as he could over the previous 9 months, but still. It's not gonna last, and what is he going to do once he's left with nothing in his bank account? He can already feel the beginning of the familiar tug at his chest at the idea of going through his savings before he manages to get back on track, and he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

_ Breathe, breathe, breathe. It's fine. You're fine. _

It's not the most helpful of thoughts, but eventually his breathing starts to level, and he's able to look through his backlog of emails without panicking again about whether or not he will be able to keep paying the rent for this apartment in just a few months. 

Surprisingly, most of his emails are from that same morning. There’s so many of them, Dan is almost tempted to contact his webmaster and ask whether or not his website has been hacked because there’s no way all of these are actually business enquiries. Baffling, they are. Scrolling through the first couple, the frown on his forehead deepens. It’s clear that most of these people have seen and appreciated the Mulién campaign, and are probably hoping to work with the same team. 

It’s bittersweet, really - because Dan might be the same designer, but he’s missing the creative input of someone that understand the business side of things and can turn his idea into something that will sell. And Dan doesn’t know how to explain that no, he can’t work on the same projects, because he’s missing Phil. 

But there’s one email, almost buried in amongst the contact requests and spam, that causes him to catch his breath in his throat. He closes his laptop screen before he can even read the subject line, the **HR -** **Accordion Ltd** in the sender column enough to make bile rise in his throat. 

Whatever they want, he doesn’t care. Not today.

\---

Dan’s phone doesn’t ring much these days, unless it’s his mum calling - and even then, he has a personalised ringtone for her, so that he always knows when she’s calling and doesn’t avoid her, least she scolds him for it for days. 

When it first rings, Dan looks at the phone with diffidence, as if it’s a bomb that’s about to explode. He has to leave the comfort of his sofa to check the caller ID, meanwhile cursing himself for leaving the device on his table rather than bringing it closer. 

His mood doesn’t improve as he looks at the screen and sees who is calling him - if anything, it only gets worse. He knows he should answer, really, but it’s almost like he’s stuck, arms glued to his unmoving body and feet fused to the floor. He can feel his heartbeat increasing as the phone keeps ringing and ringing, eyes never moving from it until it stops ringing and the screen fades to black. 

Only then does he release the breath he has been holding, willing his heart to slow down. Pursing his lips, he grabs the phone with slightly unsteady hands, bringing it to the sofa. It’s fine, he thinks, he’ll answer next time.

PJ will understand.

-

There’s another email from Accordion, waiting in his inbox the next day; Dan looks at it warily, mouse hovering over it as he debates whether he wants to open it or delete it. He does neither, simply closing the window and browsing to another tab. The ignored emails burn at the back of his mind for the entire day, taking his focus away from any work he’s trying to do. He’s tempted to open one, just for one second, but the idea that they might be tracked and the sender would know that he’s read it quickly changes his mind. 

It’s ridiculous, he thinks, to be scared of a digital message. It’s probably something important as well, something about his last paycheck, or some kind of paperwork he’s forgotten to sign in his haste to gather all the stuff he had scattered around the office over the past 9 months - everything except the cacti mug. He’d thought about it, almost placed it in his box absent-mindedly; it had broken his heart all over again, the idea of leaving behind a physical piece of his connection with Phil.

Dan can feel the beginning of tears forming at the corners of his eyes, the chocked up sensation of holding them in, the pressure in his throat that makes him crave for release. He refuses to cry, not today, not over this. 

He closes the tab and has to focus hs gaze on the turned off television, trying to not fall apart.

-

There’s a ringing coming from somewhere in the apartment. 

Dan can hear it, muffled by the sound of his shower; he tries to quickly wash off the body wash from his arms, watches the soapy water run down the drain. He almost slips as he gets out of the shower, and he barely ties the towel around his hips before he goes to look for his phone. He wouldn’t normally care, honestly, would let it ring and ring and just check it once he has a spare minute, but his mum has been calling him every single day recently, concern in her voice ever since he had  told her that he hadn’t been hired before proceeding to cry about Phil.

His phone is half hidden where he placed it before deciding to shower, in between the sofa cushions, precariously close to falling on the floor, probably due to the vibrations of the ringtone. He’s grateful for that, grateful for the soft surface underneath that softens the fall that follows the moment he picks it up and sees Phil’s name besides the missed call message.   

The blood freezes in his body as he stands there, a puddle of water forming at his feet as he stares down at the phone as if it’s on fire, eyes wide and mouth dry. He doesn’t know how long he stands there and watches the screen of his phone fade into darkness, telling himself that he can’t turn around, that surely,  _ surely _ , Phil is going to call back. 

Dan can feel each droplet of water fall from his wet hair and travel down his spine, making him shiver when the cold air hits his back. It’s worth it, he tells himself, if it means he can be available the moment his phone will ring again.

His brain yells at him to move, to do something, to take the phone back into his hand and dial Phil’s number - to reach out instead of wasting the opportunity as he waits for Phil, once again. 

But Dan stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and fixated on a phone that isn’t ringing anymore, wondering when he’s finally going to accept that Phil isn’t coming back.  

\--

Over the course of the past two weeks, Dan has told himself that, no matter what happens, he will keep his resolution strong. He won’t let his shattered heart decide for him, won’t crumble in front of Phil if, for whatever reason, he ends up seeing him again.

Opening his front door, grumbling to himself about the annoying postman that likes to wake him up way too early in the morning, he’s soon rendered speechless. Looking up into blue eyes that he knows so well, that he’s missed so dearly, no matter how hard he has tried to tell himself that he didn’t, he realizes just how big of a lie he has told himself.

He’s sure that he looks ridiculous, standing still behind the half open door, a look of utter disbelief on his face as he tries - and fails - to tell his brain that, yes, Phil is here, at his apartment. That he’s real, looking just as beautiful as he always does, eyes warm and filled with a hint of concern, the same look he always gets whenever he’s staring at Dan. He’s forgone the button up and opted for a black shirt, the colour a striking contrast to the white of his skin, immaculate despite the blinding sun shining outside. 

Dan has never seen a more beautiful man - a thought that makes his eyes water as soon as it crosses his mind. 

The two look at each other for what Dan is sure feels like hours. A small voice in Dan’s mind is telling him that he should invite Phil in, move away from the door and let him speak - because surely, if he’s come all the way to Dan’s apartment, unannounced, he must have something to say? Dan is suddenly terrified by that, his body refusing to cooperate even with the smallest of tasks, feet staying rooted on the floor, fingers clasped around the wooden frame of the door. 

There is only one thing he can focus on - Phil, right here in front of him for the first time in weeks, so close that if Dan wanted to it would only take a couple of inches before he would be wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders he’s dreamed of for so long, inhaling the familiar smell that he can’t help but seek out whenever he’s sorting through his closet. 

It’s everything he has wanted, for days now, yet he can’t bring himself to do it - Phil’s parting words still echoing in his ears, the fierce look of resolution hardening his features. Phil had been the one stepping away from him, leaving without looking back.   
  
It’s only fair, Dan thinks, that Phil has to be the one taking the first step forward, this time. 

Thankfully, Phil seems to agree. “Can I come in?” 

There is something about Phil’s voice that doesn’t sound quite right - deep and hoarse and hesitant, lacking the brightness that usually colours it. Dan doesn’t want to be happy about that, doesn’t want to think that he deserves it, deserves to feel as miserable as he made Dan feel, and deep down, he doesn’t. He still loves him.

Dan can only nod in reply, moving to open the door wider and let the man in. He watches as Phil steps inside, shoulders hunched forward and hands tucked in his pockets, a sign that - Dan knows - means Phil is nervous. He looks almost small as he walks the few steps that separate the entrance and Dan’s lounge, stopping to stand there and looking positively  _ lost _ .

Everything about him screams discomfort, and Dan’s stomach clenches in a way that he isn’t sure he can bear, not when he knows that he shouldn’t feel guilty, not over this. He can’t let his brain bully him into thinking that it was his fault, not this time. It wasn’t. It isn’t. 

He can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for his own self esteem as he realizes that, despite all the hurt and the anger, his first instinct is to be concerned about Phil, to care for him and make sure that he is okay, that he isn’t hurting as much as Dan is. It’s irrational, and ridiculous, and that’s probably what love really is about. 

“Is everything okay?”

He watches as Phil opens his mouth to say something, then seems to quickly change his mind, pressing his lips into a thin line, gaze shifting to avoid Dan’s own. It’s frustrating, but if there’s something that Dan has learned during the months of getting to know Phil, it’s that he needs time. And maybe Dan is an idiot for giving even more to him, after everything he’s done, but he can’t bring himself to do anything else. 

“I - uh.” It seems like Phil isn’t exactly sure of what he wants to say, eyes darting all over Dan’s face almost in hope of finding some kind of help.

Dan takes pity on him, morphs his features into a softer expression, “Phil?” He urges, trying to infuse some kind of encouragement into his voice. 

It might not be a lot, but it seems like the effect is instantaneous. Phil inhales loudly as soon as his name has left Dan’s lips, and it’s obvious from the way that he clears his throat that he’s gathering his thoughts. “I - hi. Hi Dan,” is the first thing he says, and Dan didn’t realize how much he had missed the way Phil says his name until he does. “I missed you.”  

It’s everything Dan has been waiting for, but it also feels like a punch right to the stomach.

“Did you? Did you really?”

Phil’s eyes are pleading as he takes a tentative step in Dan’s direction, only to stop abruptly as he notices the way Dan flinches back.  “O-of course I did, I - Dan you have to understand -”

“You left.”

“I know, but -”

“You  _ disappeared _ . You didn’t - you didn’t even talk to me. On my last day. Or after.”

Dan hates the way he sounds, like he could crumble into tiny pieces at any moment, fall apart without any chance of glueing himself back together. His own arms are wrapped around his midriff as if he’s trying to hold himself together, give himself the comfort that he’s been craving for the past couple of weeks.

If possible, Phil’s eyes seem to get even more sad, a whole new shade of blue showing up in them, deep and misty and dark, like a rough sea in the middle of a storm. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Dan please,  _ please  _ believe me.” He raises his hands to hide his face behind, desperation latching in his voice. “I was scared and I was an asshole and - please, just -”

When Phil looks back at him, it takes Dan’s breath away - a look of utter regret and sadness clear on Phil’s face, dark circles purple and prominent under his eyes, now glossy with almost tears. It causes a gasp to leave Dan’s mouth, a sound accompanied by a choked out “just listen to me” from Phil.

And so Dan can do nothing but nod, taking a step forward and then stopping himself, arms outstretched to reach out and comfort Phil, this neverending need to see him smile, always, since the very first time, back in his office, upset over a decision that had nothing to do with Dan but that Dan had still felt the need to fix. 

It probably won’t ever change, Dan realizes, this desire to give into Phil. It should make him scared, should make him want to run away. But they’ve been running from each other and from their feelings for so long, Phil more than Dan, and he’s sure, completely so, that he would regret it for a long time, probably the rest of his life, if he didn’t give in one more time, when Phil finally seems to be ready to stay instead of leave.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

There’s a moment where it seems like Phil wants to protest, like he isn’t expecting Dan to agree but is instead ready to try and convince him. He opens his mouth to say something, frowns, then closes it. 

“I - right.” He stays there, looking mildly suspicious, as if waiting for Dan to change his mind and kick him out of the apartment - which is probably why he starts speaking extremely fast, as if he wants to get all the words out before Dan can stop him. “Look I - I have no good excuse. I was stressed over the Board decision, and then people were talking about us, PJ was talking about us and then you - when you didn’t hear anything about your contract you asked me if I knew something and I just - .”

“I wasn’t - Phil, I didn’t want to ask you to, I don’t know, convince HR to hire me. I just - I was worried about it and I. I just wanted to talk about it, to my  _ boyfriend _ .” Dan can feel himself deflate, the last word almost catching in his throat, struggling to get it out in the open. “You know that, right? You - you should know that.”

“I know that now, but - but you were upset, I could tell, I thought you were asking me something that - I could have done it, so easily. And I  _ wanted  _ to, that’s the thing. I would have done it. For you. That’s the problem.”

Dan’s voice is strangled when he asks, “that’s a problem?”

There’s a small smile on Phil’s face, a sad one, there for only a second and disappearing right after, so quickly that Dan could have easily imagined it. He doesn’t have time to think about it, Phil taking the small step that separates them - when did they get so close, Dan wonders, when did the distance between them shrink so much that it only takes Phil one step to be right in front of Dan, close enough that Dancan smell his cologne and feel his body heat?

“It’s a problem,” Phil says, voice low, hand reaching out to take one of Dan’s in his grasp, delicate touch, loose enough that if Dan wanted he could slip away in one motion. “Because my career is important to me, it’s the one thing I’ve cared about for  _ years _ now. I would never do anything to put it at risk. I love my job.”

“I -”

“It’s a problem because for a moment I didn’t care about my job, not at all. There was just you in my mind, asking me for  _ something  _ and all I wanted was to say  _ yes, everything, I’ll give you whatever you want, just smile _ .” Phil’s eyes search his, one moment of silence between them. “I love my job and in that moment I didn’t care, because I realized that I love you more, I love having you around more, I love making you smile more than I love my job. And that scared me.”

It isn't intentional, really, and Dan has been telling himself over and over that something like this cannot happen, no matter how much he wants it, no matter how many times he’s dreamed about it over the past couple of weeks. It isn't something he can control, though. His fingers still latched with Phil’s, he feels himself being drawn against Phil’s chest and the small space between them closing until Phil’s lips are pressing to his in a feather like kiss. It’s sweet and so soft, everything that Dan has been missing for the past weeks, the warmth and delicious pressure enough that Dan can feel himself tearing up.

Their lips part just as he can feel Phil's hand on his cheek, delicate and lovely. Dan interrupts the kiss with a choked out gasp, eyes wide and scared as he realizes what's happening, what Phil has just said.

“Dan-” Phil murmurs, his name sounding like a plea, devastating in how weak it makes Dan feel.

He has to close his eyes against the overwhelming desire to give in and keep kissing Phil, wrap his arms around him and never let him go. But he can't. “What you just said, I - please. Don’t say it if you - if you're not -”

He hates how his voice cracks right at the end, any desire to hold himself together vanishing against the pain of having Phil so close to him and being unable to believe that he isn’t going to leave again.

“Dan,” Phil calls, his voice steadier this time, a bit more sure. “Look at me?”

Dan does, obviously, can’t resist Phil’s request. His vision is blurry because of unshed tears, but there’s a bubble of hope forming in his chest, ready to burst open.

“I love you. I was an idiot, scared that caring about you would make me lose everything - but these past weeks, the idea that I lost  _ you _ -” Phil shakes his head, takes a few  deep breaths, tightens the hold he has on Dan’s face without hurting him. “I never want to feel like that. I love my job, I do, but I could always find another, that’s not  _ forever _ . But - you are. You feel like it.”

There’s a sound then, a choked out sob that surprises both of them, Phil’s eyes widen and Dan wonders  _ why are you looking at me like that, _ before he realizes that the sound actually came from him. “Oh,” he says, another wet sound coming from the back of his throat, before he throws his arms around Phil’s neck, glueing himself to him, as if he wants to crawl inside of Phil, never let him go.

Phil doesn’t seem to be against that idea, wrapping his arms around Dan’s back, a whispered symphony of  _ I love you, I love you, I love you  _ pressed in kisses onto Dan’s neck.

-

Hours later, when the sky is darker and they are more or less dressed, wrapped around each other on Dan’s barely big enough bed, Dan asks the question that he has been wanting to ask for a while now.

“Why did you call, the other day?”

Phil hums from his place on Dan’s chest, fingers tracing the faint trail of hairs almost absentmindedly, the touch making goosebumps appear on Dan’s skin. “PJ told me you didn’t respond to the email from HR or his call. I just - I felt guilty, I guess. I didn’t want you to waste an opportunity like that just because I was an idiot. I still don’t want you to.”

Dan frowns, tightens his hold on Phil’s body, looking down at the mop of dark hair that is Phil. “What opportunity? I still haven’t read the emails.”

Phil’s fingers still on his body, so abruptly that it almost draws a whine out of Dan’s mouth. “You didn’t?”

“No, I figured it would be some paperwork about the apprenticeship or something and I just - I didn’t feel like dealing with it. Or PJ. I mean, he wasn’t around for my last week, guess he wanted to check something about the projects.”

Phil’s face is suddenly in his line of vision, his head no longer resting on Dan’s chest. “PJ is leaving. I thought you knew.”

“What?”

“He’s leaving, that’s why he wasn’t around much during your last days. He’s been dealing with all of the  arrangements and paperwork for the past couple of months, honestly he’s been all over the place, the idiot, he thought I would handle your official hiring except he did  _ not  _ tell me that.”

Dan blinks down at Phil, feeling like he’s missing an important piece of the puzzle, like he’s staring right at the solution to a mystery but can’t quite grasp it. “Official hiring?” 

Phil smiles at him then, his real smile, the one that has been pressed into his skin for the past couple of hours, the one that Dan has been kissing like a starving man desperate for food. “You should read those emails.”

With his heart hammering in his chest and Phil’s hand wrapped around his own, Dan does.

_Mr Howell,_  
_We would like to schedule an appointment with you to discuss the opening of a position in our Art & Graphic Departments, specifically the role of  Art Director, which we think you could be a great addition to. _  
_Attached, you will find a brief description of what the role will require, and all the necessary information should you accept our invitation to come and meet -_

Dan has to stop reading then, mouth open in disbelief. He turns to look at Phil, eyes wide and watery. “They - Phil -”

Phil’s tongue is poking out from between his teeth, that careless innocent smile that has never stopped making Dan’s heart burst. “Yeah.”

“Did you know this? Did you - tell me you didn’t do this for me, I love you but tell me -”

Phil’s eyes sparkle when he leans in to kiss the words right out of Dan’s mouth. “You love me?”

There’s a feeling of warmth spreading through Dan’s body, filling his veins like warm butter. “I do, of course I do, you idiot. But I swear if this was your way to ask for forgiveness..”

“It wasn’t me. I had no idea about it before PJ told me a couple of days ago. That’s what made me come here, actually. I had to make sure that you would accept, I had to make sure I could see you again and be able to hold you, and kiss you.”

He kisses Dan again, then, as if trying to get his point across. Dan isn’t complaining, not really, gives in to Phil like he always does, tangles their legs together and for a few blissful minutes every work related conversation is pushed to the back of their minds. 

A while later, when they’re back to lying together on the bed, content smiles on their faces, Dan can’t help himself when he asks, disbelief in his voice, “Art Director, me? I don’t deserve it. Other people have been there longer.”

There’s pride in Phil’s voice, a stark contrast to the insecurity in Dan’s. “You deserve it. You have the experience and the creativity and everything needed to do it.” He nuzzles his nose into Dan’s neck, leaves a soft kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “I can’t wait to work with you again.”

Dan tenses involuntarily at those words. “Should we - Phil, you should know. I’m not - hiding was a mistake, I think. I don’t,” he starts, swallowing down the beginning of fear in his voice, making sure that he says this properly. “I don’t want to hide, anymore. If we’re doing this again.”

He expects Phil to pull back, to protest, to try and convince him, once again, that letting people know that they’re together would be a terrible idea for their careers. He takes a deep breath, waits for Phil to deliver those words, for the heartbreak to come once again.

But it never happens. 

Phil tightens his hold around Dan, moves his head to leave a kiss in the middle of Dan’s chest, right over his heart. “I want everyone to know. I told you, I love you. You and I, it feels like forever. I don’t want to hide that.”

Dan has to kiss him again, then, his body positively shaking with the need to gather this man in his arms and show him just how in love with him he is, how happy those words are making him - words that he’s been waiting forever, it seems, to hear. And if by kissing Phil he can try and hide the trail of tears that are falling down his cheeks, the saltiness of them that he can taste through the smile that they’re sharing, well, that is just a plus.

\--

If Dan has to be honest - and he usually does, is what he’s learned - he doesn’t feel much different from when he was a simple intern. 

Sure, he has his own office now, although he doesn’t spend much time in there, feels almost awkward with only the company of his own thoughts; he helps making decision about what projects to take on and which ones to outsource, can use the knowledge of having worked with the art and graphics team for months to choose the best people to pair up in new jobs - although in the end of it all he still feels like he had when he was an intern, still gets the same combination of thrill and anxiety whenever he starts working on a new project, the desire to make it the best and the doubt of failing.  

He asks Kevin, one day, when they’re gathered around in his new fancy office - although gathered is too serious of a word for the situation, Dan pacing around the room, unable to stay still, Sarah and David on the floor, a spread of mockups scattered around, Kevin seated on Dan’s actual desk, legs swinging childlishly.

“Are neither of you upset? Not even a little bit?”

Phil had told him not to say it, had looked into his eyes, used the most powerful puppy stare to beg him not to - perfectly aware that it made no difference, because whenever Dan gets his mind onto something, there’s no turning it around. Phil knows this, and apparently loves him all the same.

Surprisingly, it’s David that replies, a loud groan leaving his mouth, exasperated. “Not this again?”

“I just want to make sure!”

Kevin laughs, the sound loud and bright and welcome in Dan’s daily life, a sound that he’s missed deeply over the couple of weeks he’s spent at home - which he had told Kevin the moment he’d seen him again, a crushing hug in the middle of the office that had made a lot of people turn around to look, amused.

“Honestly Dan, you’re the best person for the job. You have the experience and you’re good.”

“So are you guys.”

Kevin nods, looking pleased. “Yeah, but this is my first job since I graduated. And David, no offense mate, but I wouldn’t trust you with my worst enemy.”

“Hey! What do you mean?”

“Dave,” Sarah says, calmly, hands still managing to fix the papers on the floor to try and resemble something that makes sense. “You complained you lost your glasses for at least two hours when they were on your head the entire time.”

“Well, none of you shitheads were nice enough to tell me.”

“Language,” Kevin grins, eyes sparkling with the effort of holding in his laugh. “Your boss is right in front of you.”

“I hate you all.”

Dan knows the blush on his face is probably impossible to hide, so he doesn’t even try. He looks around, watches some of the people that have managed to become an integral part of his life in the last nine months, and lets a content smile take over. 

He had been terrified on his first day back, had stood still, petrified in front of the office door as Phil stood right next to him, looking mildly concerned. He knew it wouldn’t be a surprise for people, he had spent the previous days going back and forth from the office, getting all the information from PJ before his official first day, signing his new contract - Louise in front of him, ready to archive the document and make it official, a proud smile all over her face. She had cried as he finished the last swoop of his signature, a full on sob that had startled him. 

Louise hadn’t been the only one crying over his new job, although her reaction had been the most excessive one. Dan’s mum had, surprisingly, shed a few tears over the phone when he had called to tell her the good news, quiet sobs that Dan would have almost missed if he wasn’t so in tune with trying to recognize every single change in her voice, every single thing that could indicate that she was worried for him.

His mum didn’t sound worried about him for the first time in years though, had whispered a broken, “oh Dan, I’m so proud of you, my baby,” and he had to pretend he had dropped his phone at that very moment so that he could sniffle by himself without fearing she could hear him. Even his dad had surprised him, a simple “good job, Dan,” that contained all the unsaid words that Dan could ever want. 

It’s still seems unreal to Dan, to be able to spin around in an office that is just his, to have all the creative freedom that he has always wanted and feel like the road ahead is only just starting, being built in front of him stone after stone with whatever he feels inspired to do - whatever he’s inspired to be.

Of course, having his own office isn’t the only perk.

“Dan - oh, hi guys.”

Phil steps inside the room with a smile big enough to brighten the entire building, the soft edge of his eyes focused on Dan and only Dan. It’s a look that he’s seen countless times and yet he can’t get enough of, hopes he never does, hopes he sees it forever, just like Phil promised.

“Hey,” Dan greets him, not even trying to hide the fondness in his voice. He doesn’t have to, not anymore. It had been surprisingly easy to just let everyone know - and it had been quite embarrassing to receive nothing but unamused looks, a never ending chorus of  _ we know _ following them for days after. “I’ll only be five minutes?”

Phil smiles and sends a wink his way - or rather tries to, mostly he just blinks oddly in a way that makes Sarah giggle out of endearment. Dan can relate. 

“Got a romantic date with your partner, Howell?” David asks, grinning, knowing full well that he can joke about it without being scolded - at least, for a bit. 

“We have a call with a client, actually. But who knows, depending how that goes, maybe someone will get lucky tonight.”

Dan’s laugh is drowned out by a chorus of whistles and giggles, the sounds of people enjoying themselves during a hot summer afternoon - a sound that, only a year before, he would have never thought would belong to an office, his idea of boring white walls completely disintegrated by the reality that, sometimes, people get lucky doing what they love, and want nothing more than to share that love back.

Sometimes, Dan thinks, trying new things can bring you the happiness that you’ve been waiting for all along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much if you managed to read till the end. I would love to know any opinion about the story, or even any critique if you have any - just, let me know if you liked it and you'll probably me favorite person! 
> 
> If you liked it, you can reblog it on [tumblr](http://i-am-my-opheliac.tumblr.com/post/181245661924/inspire-the-way-aspire-to-be) and i'll love you even more <3
> 
> It's been a journey - i'm proud for not dying :D


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